


By any other titles

by TarnishedJackal (Whitedemoness)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Background events, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mage Origin, Mage Rights, Multiple games, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitedemoness/pseuds/TarnishedJackal
Summary: Her name was once Saeris Lavellan. She was Twiceblooded, Stormbringer, the unending dream.It was just a pity all those names sounded like someone remaining alone. Titles were not things those with happy futures carried, not ones that would live long and content. Titles such as she held were ones for hardship and great futures that would ask much.An elfblooded human with unheard of traits of elven heritage; Raised by Dalish and Chasind alike, dragged to the Fereldan circle of Magi by templar's in her youth, nothing about Saeris was simple. A born dreamer who did not have guidance and was finding her own methods, with the wit to seem to bow her head to Templars.When Surana became a Gray Warden he returned and took her with him. When Kirkwall fell and the Inquisition began, somehow Saeris found herself in the midst yet outskirts of it all. But nothing would have prepared her for seeing the man from her dreams, literally, there to guide the herald or the feelings that started to intrude upon the waking world.





	1. From forests to Chasind to Circle

AN: Yes. It's another Idea and admittedly rather rough to just get it out. I wanted to mess with the whole Dalish sending away someone if they have more than two mages, and templar's looking for young apostates to drag to the circle. Of course, because I can't help it, this is a planned Solasmance starting pre-conclave and do not expect it to make canon sense I'm just indulging. Names etc taken from Project Elvhen which is a fantastic resource.  
()()()()()()()()

They named her Saeris, the unending dream. For the fact that in her was for the first time seen that Elven blood in time could counter the human. To a point. Literally. Saeris was born to an elfblooded of man who had been accepted more or less by the Dalish, and one of their halla tenders. No one knew what to make of the babe with the slightly rounded ears that still clearly had a point to them. Her eyes were still larger, more luminous like an elf's but her frame was not quite so tiny even as a babe. It had been something of a large event to clan Lavellan. 

Saeris though, was a quiet if friendly child more interested in sitting at the feet of her elders and pleading to learn the letters at their keeper's side. Because everyone needed a place in the tribe she was learning to tend to the halla with her mother along with the usual chores every child had. Seeking where she would belong, to best grow with them. She had a gift it turned out, with carving and painting the designs that coated their aravells. Even at a tender age her hands were steady and the ideas she held were luminous from her imagination. Perhaps it was what should have been the first warning sign. Since Saeris was clever and had spent so long happily sitting with the many elders, she had not thought to show any of them what she could do when out gathering the herbs or branches for the fires. After all, she had heard the tales. Knew that bad things lurked in the dreams to snare the unwary, the dread wolf tracking their footsteps. 

When first she'd answered the old 'The dread wolf needs only to catch your scent once, little halla..' that they told all the children, five of them in total for Saeris' generation; they had not responded to her suggestion of hiding in a river or offering him food instead very well. It had been the first time she could remember her elders scolding her for doing something that wasn't a clear bad idea in the first place.

So Saeris learned before she was very old at all, to keep her mouth shut and look for what answers people wanted to hear. Her own mother was sweet, but quiet. Sometimes she'd draw her near and whisper tales to her making Saeris pledge to never tell even the keeper or her father. Tales of ancient Arlathan and magic that flowed like breathing, tales of her grandfather who slept forever but had passed on the legend of the Lord of Secrets to his daughter on one of the only visits. When she was seven years of age her mother finally answered why they couldn't take her to see grandfather. 

“When he heard I had fallen in love with an elfblooded human..he refused to acknowledge me as his child. Cast me aside. I was to leave my name behind then and he damned me for being less..devoted..to the past than my mother was. I do not think he ever got over that she died of sickness..” her fingers had trailed over the blue markings of her Vallaslin then sadly. “I was tempted to go, to tell him of you. That your father was the child of a line of those with elfin parentage as so many shunned them but they were always welcome amongst the Chasind..he was certain that the blood of the people would be drowned in you as so many others.” And then soft fingers were rubbing over Saeris's softly pointed ears and making her relax, the pleasant feeling of her ears being rubbed like that of one of the Chasind hounds she'd met when her father had taken her with him to trade with a tribe of them. They had originally been his people.

“You don't think he'd like me?”

“I don't think he'd give himself the chance to realize how much we love you, how special you are. Usually they are like your father, perhaps a slight brightening of the eyes, a touch more grace, but always human in appearance. Never before has a child with the lineage of human within them seemed to be regaining the traits of the people, but none can doubt your eyes my Saeris. They are the exact shape and hue of my own father.”

She was ten when her Father fell ill, as her grandmother had. Her mother beside herself with grief was off to seek out some herb the Keeper had sent her for, leaving Saeris to wipe her father's brow with a cold cloth. When she finally returned empty handed she sat beside her daughter, observing the sleeping form of her husband.

“Will I die too? From getting sick like Father is, and grandmother was?” Saeris asked, afraid. She'd seen death of course, the hunters insisted each child know how to set snares and kill what they caught but it was different from a rabbit or squirrel.

“No.” Her mother said softly, hand trailing down the blankets shakily. “Maybe. Your grandmother tried to enter Uthenerra..to see. To learn. The mixture you need to take first if not a dreamer can be dangerous to someone without enough magic in their blood and while my mother was a strong mage, not enough it seems...”

“Why is father sick then, mamae?” Saeris had asked concerned and her mother had smiled softly. 

“Some times dear, people just get sick..and your father may look young as a gift from his elf blood but he was not when I met him.” 

Saeris had looked at her father then, truly looked. She'd always thought he just had white hair like how some of her friends were born with it, and the wrinkles were hidden in his Vallaslin to Egar'nan branching over all his face. “Is father a hahren then?”

“You didn't pick up on that, my little wild one?” 

“No.”

“Yes, your father had been wed once before me but never had children. She died in childbirth. When we bonded..” Saeris leaned into her mother then and heard tales of her parents courtship all over again, her eyes slowly growing heavy. When she came to the next day her father had passed. Without her father there, for the first time Saeris felt aware of how different she was from the other elves. Without his frame, still lean for a human, Saeris was now the only 'rounded ear' there. Even though hers still had a point they were much smaller, much less sharp. She could hide her ears with her hair fairly easily. She was a bit less frail looking than her year mates as well.

Saeris sought solitude out in the woods and the wilds, knowing that her father had come from the Chasind originally and some of the rituals they had was to spend time remembering their lost ones away from others. At ten years of age she was considered skilled enough as most children and not watched over too much as long as she stayed a days trek in the area. Back before dark began. It was while napping against a tree in a dappled glen that she dreamed differently. She'd always had interesting dreams featuring the tales she had been told, but she'd never watched events happening that she had no idea of. She'd been content to watch the campers wandering about and discussing things in a tongue she did not know, human by the look of them. 

“What are you doing, wandering here?” It was not an upset voice, but a curious one. A strange figure that reminded Saeris of a long limb cat if not for the humanoid form. It didn't move correctly though.

“I'm watching the strange humans. What are you?”

“I'm Curious.”

“You can watch with me. I can't understand them. What do you think they are saying?”

It was such an innocent exchange that would shake her world.   
()()()()()()()()

It turned out, Curious was indeed, Curiosity and the spirit had been entertained when the child had revealed she thought the spirit had implied it was curious about what was happening, not that it was naming it's nature. That had led to a lot of lessons when she slept and it turned out curiosity was a close cousin of patience. One had to be patient to learn about what you were trying to understand after all, even if excited and eager. Being that even Curiosity had never heard of an elfblooded and elf child who looked actually blended, by all accounts the human usually won out, she had an ever present friend in her dreams.

Curiosity taught her not just to question but when to be quiet because others would then give you more information, answering things you did not know to ask. Patience had followed in time, pleased at whatever it found in her memories which she had given both spirits permission to teach her how to share with them. It was bittersweet watching those moments with her father all over again. Patience was also the one who urged caution, patience in sharing information, in revealing too much. In approaching others even when Curiosity urged the opposite. So Saeris told no one of her abilities, of her dreams.

Of how in those dreams Curiosity was teaching her to twist and pull at her powers when not in the camp because Patience insisted they wait and be safe. Sometimes the two spirits would argue and it would always amuse Saeris. There were other spirits of course, lesser ones with and without names, ones that were more like memories of people that had been, some just beasts that flickered about. The realm of dreaming in the Fade was often as widely diverse as the mind could make it, and a child's mind drew many curious lesser forms. 

It helped, because the other children were avoiding her now and the adults were looking at her uneasily as she grew. She was already a head taller than her peers, her ears never grew longer, there was the beginnings of puberty happening but Saeris had more of a waist developing than an elf at her age hinting that she would take more after the humans. Her mother was frowning more often, spending any time not with Saeris with the halla and their head carer. 

“I was rejected for whom I fell in love with simply because he carried human blood, by my father. I'll not stand by their shunning you for something you could not help.”

“Father loved us.” Saeris insisted one time, trying to comfort her mother. “I'm proud to be of his blood too.”

Her mother had kissed her forehead.  
()()()()()()()()

Almost a year after her father died, Curiosity encouraged her to experiment if alone while awake Saeris tried to mimic the exercise she had just been working on the previous time asleep. It was something simple, she breathed out and wind would pick up and stir the leaves nearby, whirling a gentle gale. One of the Hunter's saw her and the ensuing chaos in the clan was enough to make her wish she had time to use one of Patience's exercises in meditation.

The simple version was not only was there already a Keeper and a First but a Second who was in training temporarily from another clan until they met back up in a few years. There was certainly no room for a fourth mage when the only reason they temporarily had a third was that Clan Lavellan was fairly open minded. Saeris' mother wasted no time in packing them both, having seen the heartbroken expression on her child's face as the whispers and looks about the 'bad news of that human blooded girl, certainly Fen'Harel will seek her out. Even Mythal wouldn't take her on. Not really of the people..' And so on. Everything nasty that had until then never been said to their faces.

“Your father was once Chasind before he left on a quest after his first wife died. They knew of me, we visited once before you were in my womb. He'd taken you a time or two..They'll take us in.”

“Even though we're Dalish?” Saeris had asked curiously.

“We're kin.” Had been her mother's simple answer. It turned out, she was correct. They'd been given one of the halla as a parting gift in thanks for all her mother had done for Clan Lavellan, but they left almost everything behind for the clan. Traveling light was better and since the only things besides a few items from Saeris's father that the young girl wished to have were books? Well, the Keeper would never part with those. 

Terys Lavellan though had fidgeted and snuck her his own training book on the language, what little they had. “Sorry..” He'd mumbled and Saeris had just nodded. Once, they'd stumbled over the ancient language together. He was young for training to be First, but Saeris couldn't be upset. Even if he seemed to have not wanted to be around her much since her father died. 

“Thank you.”

“..write?”

“If I can figure out where to send it.” She'd agreed and the two children had shaken hands. Saeris hadn't realized how much everyone hadn't been touching her until then and pulled Terys into a hug.

She didn't look back, at her mother's urging. “Always move forward, look forward, Saeris.” Her mother soothed her as she walked beside the halla with her child on it. “My father only ever spoke of and looked to the past, and it made him bitter. Remember, we cannot change the past.”

“Just learn from it?” Saeris asked, used to this topic with her mother. 

“Indeed.”  
()()()()()()()()

Living with the Chasind was not that different. There were new rules, new gods. New superstitions and the ways they used magic made Saeris thrilled. It was rough and uncouth and it felt fantastic. Curiosity didn't visit often, never really had but to a lonely child each moment had been a milestone, but when it returned there was much to discuss. New ideas created. The Chasind thought nothing of creating new techniques, they felt each person had their own way and needed to find it. Her mother seemed happy, there were no halla there but there was a slew of hounds and horses. Chasind not only had Mabari at times that they bred from wild dogs they had slowly domesticated and then traded with more 'civilized' areas for. They often mixed them with the truly wild canines, and wolves. They had a special name for those creatures once bred to the ideal mix of ferocious independence and loyalty.

Twiceblooded.

The coincidence had made Saeris beam. “like me!”

A roaring laugh of approval from the resident shaman and nod, before the old snaggle toothed man had crouched down, turning her head one way then the other. “Like you. That is a good use name. Earn it.”

Saeris found life among the Kocari wilds hard but enthralling. She played in swampy water and over rocks, tracked birds and rabbits to bring back to help feed everyone and learned new ways to use her magic. One day she ran into an old woman with scraggly gray hair who looked down at her.

“Well now. What have we here. A little lostling?”

There was power pouring out of the old woman even if she wasn't doing so actively and Saeris's eyes went wide. She knew whom this had to be, every Chasind knew of her. 

“Flemeth?”

“What if I am? What if not? I suppose it's as much my name as any other. And who are you girl?”

“I'm the unending dream seeking to earn my name.” She replied cheekily. 

“Hm. Are you now. Digging through muck and mire for a name?”

“No I have my name, the shaman told me I already learned it but I won't earn it for a long time.”

“Humor me girl. My own brat is not yet back from gathering frogs for my stew pot.” Flemeth's lips curved into an amused smile, a mother with a sharp tongue but Flemeth was spoken of fondly, if a bit fearfully reverent by the Chasind and Curiosity had been her friend long enough for good reason. 

“On which of my names? Or does it matter? Can't you pluck them from the sky and make them dance in fire?”

“I see that old Brunhilda tells tales still tall as the mountains beneath the seas. Both or stop wasting my time with the flapping of your gums. There's breeze enough in these wilds.”

“Saeris, seeking to earn Twiceblooded, Flemeth.”

That dark gaze went sharp suddenly and the magic heavy and still. “Saeris is not Chasind..”

“Do you speak the language of the people?” Saeris asked, for few knew what the name meant. Not even the Keeper who had spoken a great deal of ancient elvhen, just accepted her mother's excuse that it was a name from her father's line.

“What do you know of the people, Saeris? Do you know what your name means?”

“I am the unending dream. And I am one of the people.” Saeris insisted, crossing her arms unaware of the hurt that bloomed over her young face, barely even twelve years of age now. 

“Let me look at you..” Flemeth encouraged with a hand out, crouching low. Saeris was curios as to the softer tone that Flemeth's voice had now and went to her without fear. Slowly hands went to trace down her forehead, her nose. Swept under her eyes that up close showed they were not human, a bit brighter than most elves but still vibrantly golden like citrine. Her hair was darker underneath and brighter on top with brilliant highlights from all the time she spent outdoors, a reddish blonde in copper hues. Finally, Flemeth moved the braids she wore and lifted up the hair pulled over her ears into the high ponytail.

“Well...twiceblooded you said..” And it was as if the mountains breathed, curiosity and wonder. Ancient and something in Saeris was aware this was important. 

“My father was elfblooded human, Chasind..”

“And your mother of the people..” Flemeth finished for her, fingers shaking ever so slightly.

“You can touch them, it doesn't hurt.” Saeris answered her. Flemeth breathed out and then did so, achingly tender in her touch before she drew back.

“I've never heard of nor witnessed the like. It should not be, when mixed the other lines always drove down that of the people..”

“Mother said it's why she called me Saeris. Because it does not end in me.”

“Wise woman, your mother. What is her name?”

“I don't know. When Grandfather refused to acknowledge her anymore because of my father she said she left her name behind. She goes by Da'halla now.”

“I see..” Flemeth chuckled then. “I would like to have you meet my daughter some day, but I'll give you another use name. One to keep secret. Can you keep a secret?”

“I have lots of them no one living knows.” Saeris agreed and that made Flemeth laugh loudly, a cackle that was half mad and half delightful to witness.

“Oh the heaven's are going to shatter from you! Hmm but already named for a dreamer in plain sight, perhaps your mother suspected or dreamed of it and forgot while you grew inside her...listen carefully then, da'len, and do not share this with anyone. You will know when you have earned this name..I call you Sulemtarsylnin, Stormbringer.”

With that Saeris felt as if there was a physical weight to her shoulder's now, it was not unwelcome, but as if the mantle was real and she could pluck at it. Curious she looked at her arms, held them up and then back at Flemeth who raised a brow. “What is it, feel a chill of fate?”

“No but when you said that it felt like something fell on me. Like a blanket.”

Flemeth chuckled. “You've strong magic to you girl, I can sense it in you crackling and blazing looking for a way out. I've given you a clue as to where to look to direct it.”

“Storms..”

“Yes. A bit obvious but you are young.” But there was curves to Flemeth's tone that reminded her of Curiosity, especially when it was smug. Like when it had revealed that by exposing her to so many lesser spirits, ones most did not even consider true spirits, they hid her 'scent' from the demons where usually a dreamer child would draw them near. 

“You're being sneaky and hiding something to my name behind the obvious.”

“Ha! Come brat, you are definitely meeting my Morrigan..”  
()()()()()()()()()()

Morrigan and Saeris got along wretchedly well. Meaning under Flemeth's watchful eye they proceeded to tussle, shove mud in each other's hair, bite each other, and fling half mastered spells before smirking at each other through black eyes and damaged clothing. It was the first time Saeris had a friend who could give better than they took and wasn't afraid of anything. They were more rivals than friends, and any time Flemeth got them together she seemed content to just observe and laugh as they threw themselves into their respective studies to try and outdo the other. Two little not even teenagers yet all but going mad attacking each other. When tired they'd discuss notes and snark on Morrigan's side seemed to roll right over Saeris without ruffling her feathers or hurting her feelings. Nor was Saeris angry the first time Morrigan turned into a giant spider and gave her a dry bite, she just asked to learn to change her shape as well. Morrigan though had a year on her and Flemeth said until her own maturity had settled in it was best to wait, that her blood complicated things. Morrigan had wanted to ask but Flemeth had started tossing spells at both of them, declaring in that action the topic off limits and the ancient crone never missed.

At least Flemeth would heal her halfway before dropping her back off at the Chasind camp. The first time she'd limped in and begged the old shaman to teach her how to heal herself, her mother had been panicked. When she said Flemeth was kidnapping her to train with her daughter it was odd how every single person there pretended to no longer worry or care, even her mother. It seemed the great witch of the wild's still held her rank as one you did not mess with.  
()()()()()()()()

It was ironically Flemeth's toying with the Templar's, Morrigan had told her of the games they played with them, that ended up with Saeris waking up exhausted, aching, and feeling as if her soul had been cut away on the back of a horse with her hands and feet tied. The Templar's had found her. A possibility her mother had stressed on since they first left Clan Lavellan three years prior. If she was ever taken or confronted by Templar's, Da'halla had begged Saeris to go to the circle instead of fight back and risk death.

“I'd rather you chained and alive with a chance to escape...promise me my love..”

“But you'd never know, mamae.”

“I'd know you live. Somehow, a mother always knows.”

Closing her eyes again she swallowed down the pride and fighting desire she'd learned with the Chasind, the bits of ferocity she'd become comfortable in her magic with Morrigan and Flemeth. Right now she needed to be Saeris Lavellan once more, quiet and observant and draw on Patience's teachings. The first one..information.

“Sir?”

“What is it?” One of the Templar's asked as she looked up from where she'd been sat by the fire, still bound. One of the female's had taken her to attend to other things but since then she'd been clearly in one spot. 

“May I ask what is to become of me?”

Slowly the Templar looked her over, setting down the hard tack he had been chewing on. “You aren't going to start the whole screaming and crying part?”

“I can recognize the symbols you wear, so I am going to a circle? I just wish to be sure.” She asked, trying to keep calm and respectful but knew fear was in her voice.

“Yes. You have a chance to prove yourself deserving of such. You're young enough I doubt those chasind barbarians taught you their ways yet.”

Misdirect. Flemeth had insisted she and Morrigan learn to feed answers without actually lying. “My mother and I are from a clan of Dalish. Are the circle's so different?” 

As she hoped the atmosphere was a little less hostile, she knew she looked terribly young, likely closer to eight instead of thirteen in her face and the loose attire she wore helped with that. Savage elves were less offensive to most than savage humans, at least among the humans. Which was odd because according to Flemeth all the Fereldan's had once been from the Chasind clans. 

“You don't look like a knife ear.”

“Father was elf blooded but allowed to live with the clan, before he died.” She answered honestly, yes they didn't have ones like her but maybe it was just because she was the first mix like that. Maybe it was her mother's line or her fathers, or maybe it was just like her they hid their ears.

“So you're part human.” Not surprising that they seemed to warm up to her. Barbarian humans bad but elf with a bit of human was tolerable if still less than human? People were confusing. It wasn't like the color of her hair or eyes defined her but what ran in her veins? 

The constant subjecting to an admittedly very gentle smiting was highly unpleasant. When she finally whimpered at the feeling of being cut off from the fade she took a risk, unable to take another day on this journey feeling as if the air could not be breathed.

“Is there anything that would have you not do that? It hurts..”

“We can't risk your falling to a demon.”

“how would I do that?” She asked, honestly baffled. It was a great and terrible decision as she was then lectured for hours on the Chant of Light. Honestly she had never heard it before and so at least by asking questions, very confused as they were, seemed to be winning the favor of the templars. The next time she was due for a smite she was spared. The lectures were dry and boring and made no sense at all, but it was infinitely better than feeling she was missing a limb. She did her best to pay attention. It helped that among Dalish and Chasind both most the learning was verbal, and same with Flemeth. Saeris just retained things better when they were spoken to her.

Although she really did not know why they revered a god who apparently ignored them. She'd never really understood that about her own people though either. At least the Chasind were more worried about too much attention from gods not too little.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Candle light soft and scented flickering over the pages before her left Saeris almost dazed. Nearby she could hear the turning of pages as Jowan and Surana shared a text both of them needing to work on a different school than she preferred. Amell sat against her side, head heavy on her shoulder as the other mage dozed. The sounds of creaking armor was such a commonplace noise it didn't even make the teens jump anymore.

 

The candle began to smoke as the last of the wax gave up, and without a thought Saeris blew out, focusing inwardly for less than it took to blink, a tiny little blue glow hovering now over her fingertips held aloft. The first time she had done that a smite had been Cullen's reaction, one of the younger Templar's assigned to their group along with his friend Thomas. It had stung, but he hadn't been very good at it yet and Amell had borne the brunt of it. The feisty mage had proceeded to lecture Cullen afterward who bore a telltale blush as the red head told him off.

 

They were a strange group, the six of them. Jowan was often researching the most obscure of information, Amell and Surana were little pyromaniacs, and Saeris?

 

Different tended to be how she was summed up. The Templar's saw it as a good thing, but then she had been one of the few to bow her head and submit as her mother had urged her, when they found her not even thirteen years of age out in the Kocari Wild's amongst the Chasind. Willing to hear of if not take to heart the Chant of light and it's history as oral tales was something both her parent's peoples had treasured she had thought to ask questions.

 

Of course being that she was found amongst the barbarians and claimed a different group of Savages as her birth people from her mother's side had meant almost the moment she stepped foot in the tower of magi that she was forced to undergo her Harrowing. Furthermore she was never to let on that she had done so, having no formal training she was learning as if just another mage apprentice for all she technically proved her right. They'd just wanted her phylactery in case she tried to escape, not something she could fault. Not truly. Some mages did try to escape, but books and the chance to _learn_ had been rare in her clan. So yes, she was different. Some things she did hid the worst of it, like how she wore her hair, speaking slowly and carefully which made others think she was shy- hardly. Her only friend and rival back in the time she dwelled with the Chasind had often thought biting her as a giant spider was a greeting worthy of praise- if not a lightning bolt to the face- but being silent and letting others make assumptions was safer.

 

It helped one was to never speak of their harrowing.

 

So yes, the fact she had a strange light spell was long overlooked, because she'd glance to the floor and mumble something about the shaman teaching it to her and it was dismissed even by her friends as foolish barbarian nonsense. Swallowing back frustration as the memories were drawn up, Saeris glanced at Amell's sleeping face and then up to Cullen. Sweeping her lit fingers in a helpless gesture had the young Templar teen over, all too willing to carry the unconscious mage girl back to their dorms.

 

Thomas moved to take his place at the door, shaking his head amused. “You shouldn't encourage him.” He chided Saeris softly, his own gaze though falling on the ever oblivious Surana. That one was sadly, likely to stay one sided as Surana had made it clear he not only liked girls, he still didn't trust a Templar.

 

“I think they're sweet.”

 

“You've a weakness for the whole 'forbidden love' thing, don't you, Saeris?” Jowan asked, propping up his chin with a hand.

 

“Jowan, don't get her to tell it again.” Surana grumbled, his ears pink though betraying like so many of them locked up in this tower, Surana for as long as he could remember, the memories Saeris had of her parents was popular. She must have told their tale -edited- hundreds of times now. She didn't mind.

 

“I do..” Saeris agreed, but this time her eyes were distant, looking at the blue flames that curled more like smoke over her fingers. A sort of memory of fire rather than actual fire but not true veil fire. That took skill she did not yet have. Her father had been Chasind, part of the Dog Tribe, no surprise that they claimed such proudly in a place known for it's love of Mabari. The Chasind would breed the most fierce. They knew her mother was from another clan, she never claimed what. It was not like Clan Lavellan would recognize either of them any longer.

 

“I'd like to hear it.” Jowan pried, giving her a beaming smile..well he was attempting a sultry one, with them all approaching fifteen now, and wasn't it a strange thought, that she had been there for two years? Jowan had recently decided he was going to win over all the girls. He had a bit of a nasally voice to overcome and it made Saeris feel bad but..

 

As much as she desperately still loved her father and was proud of his blood she saw the males of the human race as too large and bulky like Mabari's themselves, and the elves made her feel the ungraceful one. She was quite honestly caught between the two in appearance. But when it made Saeris feel like she didn't fit, she remembered the way Flemeth's hands had shaken, the awe in her voice as she saw the curve of her ears and the change of her features. The Witch of the Wild's had thought her a wonder.

 

She was Twiceblooded, Stormbringer, the unending dream.

 

It was just a pity all those names sounded like someone remaining alone. Titles were not things those with happy futures carried, not ones that would live long and content. Titles such as she held were ones for hardship and great futures that would ask much. She'd witnessed as much in her books and dreams, carefully hoarded dreams. It helped that when asked -carefully oh so carefully- by the elder enchanters with Templar's hovering near by what they dreamed of, Saeris had always answered in some way related to books or of the wilderness she had known as her home. Both were true and so she would have no tells of lying, but neither would they think of demons as invading a library or the forests and Kocari Wild's grassy hills she spoke of.

 

A sharp zap of electricity made Saeris squeak, feeling the rush in her veins as her body greedily sucked it into her well of mana, licking her lips. That was the other thing, for some reason certain spells were always strengthening her. She still jumped and reacted, her hair could still stand on end, but lightning did not _hurt._ Another secret kept.

 

“What?”

 

“How did your parents meet?” Jowan pleaded and Saeris closed her book to lean back in her chair, and blew on her fingers. The soft blue light taking on the appearance of light reflecting off water as it moved upwards to the ceiling and just hovered.

 

“It was a soft rain, the sort that is more mist than real. Newly spring, the buds still green not yet into the colors they shall bloom someday..” Saeris fell into that lulling tone of one used to speaking stories. The Dalish and Chasind were both groups that told only oral tales, she had sat at the feet of her elders in both groups. She learned a few things. “Da'halla was no huntress but she had been coming from visiting an ancient shrine, hoping to see if there were new pictures she had not seen before, new patterns to perhaps have made upon her cloak. As she moved through the woods she heard a whistling from afar. Not a song she was used to it hummed and moved into a haunting tone, off key the both of them. Curious she sought out the source and cast her eyes upon a man garbed in fur and leather, bold stripes of paint over face and bared skin.”

 

The tale continued with much of it elaborated on in order to leave out the rest. It was not so uncommon for them to think Da'halla was a Chasind name, no one there was Dalish and certainly did not have contact with them. Sometimes though, her eyes sought out the faces in her dreams. Vallaslin and Chasind painted faces instead of bare and making her feel alone. The women in the tower often used cosmetics and lately Amell had taken to wearing dark hues on her lips and eyes.

 

Saeris wondered if she would be able to get away with a few markings.

()()()()()()()()

 

“When exploring the interplay of healing internal organs while also working on the outer layers one must keep cognizant of the layers that make up the skin.” Came the droning voice of one of the tranquil, well learned, ancient. It was one of the things that had earned Saeris favor with Ser Gregoire, that after passing her Harrowing she had requested his advice for what fields of study was needed more in mages, what was 'Chantry Approved'.

 

Healing had been his short and succinct answer. Of course other things could be focused on but what Saeris wanted was to ensure she never suffered as the Tranquil did, at the same time as they entirely scared her it made her heart ache. Through no fault of their own, often just too weak and scared had they failed their harrowings or looked too deeply into realms of study that were not approved of. But like all the elders, all those who came before, they knew a great deal. For one who preferred to learn by listening as much as Saeris loved her books, it was ideal.

 

The current tranquil was cutting up the delivery of livestock that would then go to the kitchen. Why not use someone who could not feel disgust at the task after all? So Saeris sat on a crate, watching as the Tranquil Ren pointed out the layers. The bones, the fat, the flesh and sinew. Tranquil craved being useful, having a purpose. In their own way they were eager to teach, and perhaps even lonely for all they would not realize it. In spending time with the tranquil, it made it all the less likely someone would suspect her of occasionally wandering the Fade far more than she had learned from the hundreds of journals in the tower she should be capable of.

 

There were even old dusty tomes with ancient elvhen in them down in the basement found when helping the tranquil clean and inventory the belongings regularly. She tucked them into her robes whenever she found them. Most were slow going, simple remnants of songs and tales in older fashion than she was used to. As long as she translated them, the First Enchanter saw no problem with her reading them. Especially after the first few were revealed to be simple songs. He didn't even check in on her anymore, just saying if she found anything of use to please translate.

 

She didn't. Saeris may be far from her People, both of them, but the wilderness still sang in her veins, pulsed beneath her heart. She was caged and willingly so for now. But neither The People nor Chasind yielded easily, and she was as her use name, Twiceblooded. Just as they were loyal but fiercely independent, so too was Saeris. It was what led her one day to examining once more the tales of the various Dalish gods, of recalling in her scribbling hand the ones of Chasind folk tales. The story the Chasind told of the first Twiceblooded hound was one that was god-touched, god loved. A hound that breathed fire and cracked mountains where he walked, whose howl echoed like a wolf yet consented to ever follow the Chasind Warrior who had wrestled it to the ground and then spared it's life.

 

It supposedly was scarred from ear to hip from an immense bite but had always prevailed with powerful jaws. Licking her lips as she traced her fingers over her own jaw she realized the Tranquil had ceased talking.

 

“You let your attention wander.”

 

“I came from People who marked their skin, I was thinking..since I am of age, or will be. I would like to do the same.”

 

“It is a cosmetic desire? Serves no purpose.”

 

“Only to comfort.”

 

“Do you require assistance?” It was as close to hopeful as the tranquil could be, seeking to aid.

 

“When we are done here..does..are there any art books? I think I need inspiration..”

 

“Tranquil Jennifer is an artist. Accomplished and often used to create murals in the chapel. She is most likely to be able to start you off.”

 

Paints were not unknown to her but it was still the stylized and trained Elven styles or the crude forms from the Chasind that her fingers used, she wanted something that would suit her features not clash.

 

“Thank you, Ren.”

 

Jennifer was easy to work with, she brought several papers with rough ideas and sketches of dogs and patterns she liked to the Tranquil and then explained that she wanted to come up with an easy enough design she could paint on herself, daily if need be.

 

As everything the Tranquil did, Jennifer threw herself into naught else and so Saeris took it on herself to bring the woman food and water, to tidy up the location that otherwise the Tranquil would have worked on.

 

Nothing could have prepared her for what she was handed later. Two papers, each carefully done. One with the perfect likeness of Saeris's face wearing the marks at their most elaborate and the other with the marks carefully made in increasing complexity so she could mimic them. Clearly the tranquil had been able to figure out which symbols had been Saeris's favorites and made them all her own.

 

“Do they satisfy?”

 

“Jennifer..these are..flawless. Thank you. You have been a greater help than I knew was possible.”

 

Tranquil could not feel joy or blush but they could in a twisted way feel satisfaction from serving their purpose.

 

The patterns were waiting for her to apply, and she had kohl and the stick used to apply it already in the dorms. It took a little work, and a lot of wiping off to reapply but Jennifer's work had been amazing. Especially because there were different levels of complexity as she stopped smudging them in time.

 

Saeris was starting simple. A sweeping line under the curve of her cheek bone for the top mark, an angle that followed by her hair line down along her jaw as well so there were two sharp forms that edged into a point. The lower one continuing along her jaw to a single upward point under her lips. Heavily stylized of a canine's jaw, with only the one tooth. She only put it on her right side and looked at her features. The copper of her hair still in the many small braids woven through the rest of the thick hair like her mother's in hue. The citrine of her eyes, she lined them lightly as well and something inside her cried in delight at the two black marks on her face now.

 

She could pass it off as 'beauty' and after a while no one would even think twice. Really what she was doing, was showing her teeth.

()()()()()()()()

 

It was a few years later, Surana and Amell both now through their harrowing and at this point only Jowan remained, the anger her friends had upon finding out she'd gone through it already and not only hadn't warned them but also had never let them know, never mind it being on direct orders, had left Saeris a bit out of the loop for a few months. She didn't seek out Cullen knowing the last thing the poor man needed was more awkwardness where he and Amell were trying not to dance around the very clear affection they shared. Chastely. Considering Amell had a few lovers -what mage in the tower didn't?- over the years it only made it where Amell had less tolerance for Cullen's practically running away from her.

 

Once Saeris may have smiled and been teasing her with Surana. Once Surana had pulled her off to alcoves and they'd explored each other under their robes in swiftly stolen moments. Now, as much for her own protection as anything Ser Gregoire insisted she all but be kept isolated. There were rumors, horrible rumors of Jowan and blood magic. The worst part was she felt guilt over having been the first to place them there, mostly innocent.

 

“Ser Gregoire? May I ask for your opinion on a passage I found in a book? It mentions other sources than lyrium but the description is a little weird. Jowan said it sounded like an herb but..” She'd asked, a frequent sight over the years approaching the Templar's. The Tranquil had all shared their 'indiscretions and crimes' that had resulted in the Rite, and the usual was that something they thought was harmless the Templar's thought entirely different about. She could not go to even a senior enchanter and not risk it being thought of that she was directly up to no good. So, she'd gained permission anytime she found a book or passage that made her concerned to go to the Templar himself.

 

“Makes it a lot easier, you know. Because if we don't have to argue in the first place and the item just disappears it means maybe we won't have to act in the future.” Cullen had praised, delighted. That was back when he wasn't avoiding her so he didn't upset Amell who could hold a grudge. So could Surana but things had been supremely difficult after their few months of trysts. Finding out she'd not only passed her Harrowing before they'd been friends but that she hadn't even told her lover what to prepare for?

 

Well it certainly hadn't helped where he'd apparently fallen in love with her and oblivious as she had been for the sake of her books, Saeris had blown him off a number of times. He'd then started seeing another few women and taking it as whatever between them was obviously over had not been what he'd wanted. The ensuing yelling match had been public and one sided with a very confused Saeris just gaping at him.

 

Of course when he'd sneered about her being a damned _shemlen_ it had stung to such a level only knowing that if she lashed out with magic might mark her as dangerous in the eyes of the templar's surrounding them calmed the storm building within her. She'd snarled at him though, a fearful sight with the facial paint she still wore on one side of her face and her eyes more heavily lined these days. He'd hated that too. Had mocked her 'barbarian' heritage not knowing she was elf blooded, as trysts by necessity were quick and he'd never had an interest in her ears. The most obvious sign to be found that she wasn't just an unusually pretty human of bright eyes.

 

So now she spent much of her time in her room studying and transcribing, and meditating. Perhaps she had never taken to the Chant but the Templar's were completely content that she sought to look within and better herself. The tranquil had a number of methods they used in place of going to the Fade. They had helped Saeris over the years to shield her part of it, a barrier so strong that only those she wanted to allow could visit. Which was good because something about the tower kept out friendly spirits as well, only demons coming in when brought for the Harrowing.

 

And one very ancient and stubborn spirit of Valor so a part of the tower that no one realized he was there, and of course one never spoke of the Harrowing..

()()()()()()()()()

 

It was all green again, but the variances from emerald to sage and colors that would never be seen in the waking world were comfortable to Saeris.

 

“You are returned.” Valor stated calmly. “Shall we continue your lessons?”

 

“My honor to be at your tutelage.” Saeris agreed and watched as the spirit formed a staff for her to use. It was a touch longer than most staffs and without ornamentation or designs. Just a simple pole. He had insisted she learn how to fight with what she would most likely have on hand and while her physical body had never the chance to train as she was now, because of her nature as a dreamer what she underwent in the Fade was just as real to her. So muscles developed along with grace. It helped that staff twirling was actually taught to them, and dancing was considered acceptable for a past time where the students could interact and flirt under watchful eyes. She did not flex those abilities though, save for controlling her part of the Fade and using it to train and remember what her mind otherwise may have forgotten. To practice spells she could not risk while awake. When awake Saeris was known primarily to study healing and the typical array of spells all mages learned, basics across a few schools. In the Fade she was free to pull up ones from those old tomes and magics that perhaps would have caught attention, such as experimenting with a massive lightning storm, under Valor's careful observation. He liked sending arrows at her when she was casting to keep her learning to be aware of her surroundings.

 

Years now, since that first day and her harrowing she had whenever possible come to meet with Valor. Curiosity and Patience could not visit her here, indeed none could who were not invited but Valor had been there since the start. When the intentions of the tower had been good and honest if misguided.

 

_It had been Valor she met upon her harrowing, who had warned her of the demon, for she had taken control of the Fade the moment she realized where she was and thus avoided the rat that would have set the tone for things. Valor had answered her questions, patiently, and then when he scorned how they sent her so ill prepared, worse than most as she had no true training against a demon, Saeris had asked if they would know should she actually_ meet _the demon._

 

“ _Yes. The only way out is to beat it at it's game and have it acknowledge that. Releasing your presence here.” Valor had seemed to disapprove of her plausible other thought. “Running away from a battle is cowardice.”_

 

“ _Is it when one is neither trained nor willing to be there? I was warned by my nature I am more frail to demons, I prefer not tempting that so far from the protection of Keeper or Shaman.”_

 

“ _A dreamer...I see. Do you not wish to test your mettle against it as surely as you have me?”_

 

“ _No. What would it prove? That I can say no? Is that not what I am proposing by avoiding the conflict entirely?”_

 

“ _Picking ones battles is not shameful.” Valor had agreed. “Very well. If you consent to visiting at times, once a moon should be sufficient?” At Saeris's nod he continued. “They do not know you meet the demon only that you return to your body alone and then they shall blast you with a smite to be certain. If you did carry one with you it would take over. Free yourself then, little dreamer and return.”_

 

_Saeris had removed herself from the fade easily, waking up on the floor._

 

“ _One of the quickest I have ever heard of..much less seen...” came the mumbling around her. She felt drunk and in pain and too young to know what either of those were to this level, so Saeris just let her eyes closed. When she'd awakened it had been to the First enchanter and the massive list of rules had begun._

 

()()()()()()()

 

Jowan was gone. Amell was being judged for her actions but had reported Jowan to First Enchanter, Surana had been the one to aid him and drafted into the Gray Wardens. All while Saeris had been in her room. She wasn't certain what had stung worse, that this all happened and no one thought to tell her, even her friends, or that when she finally found out..Surana had not even tried to say goodbye. Ser Gregoire interrogated her of course, but after all her years in the circle befriending Cullen and Thomas and the Tranquil, going to Ser Gregoire with anything she found?

 

It was a very easy interrogation, mere formality.

 

Amell fell into her studies and still did not seem to want to interact with Saeris but now it was because she was sneaking time to exchange chaste kisses with Cullen and Saeris could only wish the two of them good luck. Wynne had taken an interest in her after the latest of her forays into the advanced healing magics had been noticed, surprisingly for one barely nineteen Saeris was adept at it. She had only a week of Wynne's strict tutelage to enjoy however before nightmares invaded the waking world.

 

The sudden uprising of bloodmages in their ranks, the closing off of the doors and Templar's on the other side leaving them all but helpless against their own?

 

It was a new form of terror. Valor had trained her though, and so Saeris took up knife and staff alike and where her fellows only attacked with magic, when cornered Saeris was able to get close and strike physically. She could run longer, because she had not neglected her physical training. Simple exercises often the only distraction she had in her room. It was when avoiding the horrors that some of the blood mages were calling..was this what Jowan could do? Jowan who smiled at the thought of forbidden love and spoke of a girl in the chapel?..that she hid in a room belonging to the first enchanter. Without shame she broke into a few of his chests and wardrobe seeking a place to hide, a spell, potions, anything of use.

 

She found a grimoire.

 

Grateful for the fact that she sometimes had spent days in her rooms, Saeris made it there and barricaded herself in in mundane fashion so no one would come seeking magic. Then she hid in the back of her room where there was a false wall she had put in behind a tapestry, ever mindful of Flemeth's odd comment once when taking her back to the Chasind to always have a bolt hole no one knew of. There, by the light of her fingers which drew on so little of the fade none would find her, she hid with a bag of food and water skins, and started reading the grimoire.

 

It belonged to Flemeth and written in a confusing mix of elvhen and chasind rune glyphs spoke of the Evanarius, of the natures of duplicity. Of the negatives and positives in each of them, of Mythal's arrogance and pride and her ruthless nature as much as her love and protective aspect. Of how she claimed servants and others saw slaves. It spoke of how Flemeth extended her life and numerous ramblings from spells to cooking recipes. There was even a few notes in there about the Fade and forging a better connection.

 

With nothing else to do whilst in hiding, she read. At times there were pages that she simply could not bare to part with and so she carefully cut them free, to keep whenever she had to return the book to Irwin. At least with the chaos she could cast it near a corpse and he would blame another.

 

After a few days, and risking visiting out of her room for more food and to empty the chamber pot magically-thankfully one of the Chasind inventions that spell- she heard a commotion. Adventurers it seemed. Saeris would have stayed but she heard Wynne's voice and emerged from her hiding place.

 

She hadn't expected to be swept into Surana's arms and fussed over. Nor had she expected Morrigan, though the moment she saw her friend she fled from her former lover and hugged the woman tightly. It took Morrigan only a moment to both respond with scathing 'Ugh why all the touching!?” before she patted the shaken elfblooded woman on her shoulder. It was the impulse of a moment, slipping Morrigan the grimoire while Wynne looked around. Wide golden eyes met citrine and the two shared a nod. Yes, she had read it, no she would not tell anyone that Morrigan now had it.

 

Morrigan smiled, the real reason for the hug now apparent. After all this time as much as Saeris had missed her rival she had not forgotten her aversion to touch.

 

Surana insisted she stay and go back into hiding, the situation was worse than Saeris had thought and he was looking a bit..odd. Mismatched armor and robes as he was but Wynne showed her to cast a barrier and Saeris was all too willing to go to sleep in her real bed.

 

Of course, the demons were waiting, more wishing to claw through to the waking world and with so much bloodshed providing a path. Valor though was also there and it seemed the right time to try out some of the techniques in Flemeth's grimoire.

()()()()()()

 

Surana insisted the mages all aid them in the blight, he was taking Wynne along with him and at one point he looked to her, grinning. “We could have one more..”

 

Saeris met his gaze, and considered it. She'd be out of the tower, she'd see something of the world. Wynne and Morrigan would be there.

 

She turned to look at Ser Gregoire. If she left she refused to be branded an apostate and thus she would turn to him even before the First enchanter.

 

“Return when all this is over.” A warning, a promise to hunt her down otherwise but an agreement she could do well.

 

Cullen was shaken by events and could not even look at her. She moved to fall in beside Wynne, not wishing Surana to think she had forgotten their argument months ago.

()()()()()()()

 

“you've not been tamed. Good. T'was a worry I confess on the rare moments you crossed my mind.” Morrigan said that night as they camped, having offered space beside her own tent off to the farthest reaches of the camp. Wynne clearly had questions but was a smart woman and put together that Saeris came from the Chasind and Morrigan claimed to be a daughter of Flemeth.

 

“I learned to keep my teeth hidden.” Saeris agreed but closed her eyes, reveling in the wind, the freedom. The space. “I think I could never return to that cage though.”

 

“They have your phylactery, do they not? A fool that makes you. Letting them collar you so.”

 

“They have _a_ phylactery.” She agreed softly and it was a sly smile then, a glance over at her. “The ritual was done with my seeming so willing, they cut deep, bled me over the little silly vial. But they _bled_ me and there is power in the willing shedding of blood..” Old blood magic the sort that the Chasind knew, that until she spoke the words Saeris had never really thought of as Blood magic but just ancient ways.

 

“You corrupted it.” Morrigan breathed, her smile a wicked thing.

 

“I corrupted it. They have the blood of Lavellan, and I no longer have claim to the name before the act.”

 

“Mother would be pleased.”

 

It was tricky the thing with names among mages and the people. But it was why Saeris never mentioned her mother's clan, she could claim Dalish raised or her mother being Dalish but never again would Saeris do so. In calling herself only of the People or Dalish Heritage, she abandoned part of what had made her Saeris Lavellan. The one the Templar's bled. It was strange and ancient blood magic but Flemeth had wanted them to know the meanings behind guarding your titles and names that were close to you. The grimoire had shed even more upon it, that in time the titles the Evanarius and Forgotten ones had worn became truths, power in their words.

 

So long as Saeris was never once calling herself Lavellan, the blood in the phylactery would not seek her out. She had stricken that from her very being.

 

“You seem more like your mother these days.” Morrigan confirmed then, looking her over. “Perhaps the clan weakened you and you did not know it.” For Flemeth's magics were strange and had the most peculiar of side effects. She had noticed the brown underlayer to her hair had vanished and for all Saeris's ears seemed no more in length to Morrigan her eyes were certainly brighter, the pupils more wild. “The face paint suits you. What is it meant to be?”

 

“Twiceblooded. My use name given to me before I met your mother.”

 

And Morrigan laughed as she so rarely did because she was Chasind blooded and _knew_ what that was. “A little feral hound are you?”

 

“Not so little.”

 

“No..no I suppose not.” Morrigan paused, looking in the distance where Surana and the others gathered round the fire. “It will not do having a debt between us. Not with our history and both having sat at mother's knee. We are Witches of the Wilds after all. In exchange for mother's grimoire would you like to learn to trade your skin?”

 

“Is this a fool's errands that Surana and Alistair have us doing right now?.” She said in the same way that one may ask does a Fereldan love dogs?

 

Morrigan laughed because indeed, it was. But out of respect for the friendship they once had, perhaps could again, Morrigan gave a faint warning. “Mother has ideas.”

 

“You may keep them, as I know you would anyways.” Whatever agenda Morrigan had for consenting to be surrounded by the foolish were not ones that would involve Saeris. They would have formed and begun, likely ended easily enough in time, had she not stepped out hearing Wynne.

 

“At least being locked in that tower hasn't addled you.” Morrigan said a soft thanks in her tone.

 


	3. Changing of skin

 

They were left behind at camp while Surana, Alistair, Wynne, and Zevran went to find a way into the Brecillian forest. It was the perfect time for the two chasind blooded witches to sneak off and the real lessons begin. They had already gone over the basics many times since the first offer but needed the chance to make it real without prying eyes.

 

“ _Most of what we start with is learning to observe, actively think on the form you wish. Start noting your senses and how they should differ. You do this until you can dream as if you were the beast, and then it shall be like pulling on your smalls, just habit. But for now..” Morrigan stood beside Saeris. “Breathe in. What scents do you notice? What sounds. The feel of the earth beneath you and the sun on your skin. Start thinking as you would otherwise. Feel the fade, use it to enhance those senses further. Start to pull as much imagination to you as you can.”_

 

The dreaming aspect had been far too simple, even though Saeris was careful not to lessen the barriers around her fadescape and leaving her blocked from the spirits, with the Blight going on she did not wish to be handling demons as well. The tales she heard from the group about the Sloth Demon and the labyrinth it had concocted only enhancing that wary nature.

 

It did not change that when she entered the fade whatever she could imagine became reality. So there she focused dream by dream each night on how would it feel to have her form in that of a Twiceblooded in truth. As she could not just twist and find herself the creature, from what awkward experiments she'd made in constructing the Fade as Valor had with precision and determination, she spent long hours contemplating the type of fur. The build. The muzzle. Ears. Every small part of the body that would be just as much her own as the one she held now.

 

Eventually almost two weeks, the entire time they journeyed from the circle of magi to the Brecillian Forest, she dreamed carefully from when she fell into the Fade until she was shaken awake. Safe behind her protections learned from the Tranquil -amazingly effective for a dreamer as they were- she took the massive undertaking as her sole goal when not working with Wynne on healing the others. Gathering wood and water became her favorite parts of helping out at the camp, ones the rest were all too willing to yield, since it meant time to explore alone in the area. To contemplate it from the perspective on an alternate. Safe away from any eyes she even dropped to her hands and knees a few times to better observe things that caught her eye.

 

It must have been expected, if the amused smirk from Morrigan each time she came back with muddied robes was any sign.

 

So now she had been learning the delicate balance of twining the fade with her physical form. It was slow going, not the actual transformation which came swift and sudden she was promised later, but the slow patient curling of her magic within her body. Training her mind, her senses.

 

Thanks to her dreams, she felt she was ready. The previous night she had forgotten that she was on four legs instead of two when she dreamed. It felt a good omen but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for Morrigan to share. After all, Flemeth was the perfect example that sometimes just by listening you learned more than telling what you thought and Morrigan _was_ her daughter.

 

“Now then, you've an idea of what you should be experiencing and your will is strong enough to trust I'll not need to strike you down. The main part to worry over is holding the form as the shock to the mind can be great. Fortunately for you, we're alone out here for now while the idiots traipse in the forest and the others enjoy the reprieve. No rest for the Wicked Witches however. So drop down, you may wish to strip first or I've no doubt you'll strangle yourself in those stupid looking circle robes..”

 

“I'd like to get in some proper gear again.” Saeris agreed and began unfastening the silly garments rapidly. Really. Who needed outlines around their breasts? It only made a seam there that was hardly comfortable. “But not the robes I've seen called Chasind.”

 

“Those feathered things? Closer to a chicken I think..but I suppose it sells well. Much like the idea of wild and ravenous women after men's bodies.”

 

“I did wonder about the ample cleavage you're showing.”

 

“I like a bit of air. And the bugs don't bite if you circle mana just so, surely you remember that lesson?”

 

“thankfully or I've no doubt I'd be getting bites along my unmentionables.” Saeris grinned even as she pulled off the last of her circle attire and stood there, not at all shy around Morrigan. Morrigan lifted a brow, gaze going over her form.

 

“You're not as soft as I would have expected. Muscle. How did you get that in the tower of Fools? Run up and down the stairs?”

 

“I spent a lot of time solitary, there were exercises I did in my room.” She half told the truth and then Saeris tilted her head back. Breathing in. Feeling her ribs expand, contract. The shift of her thighs, her calves, the spreading of her toes in the dirt. She focused more on the feeling of the slight breeze her mana was creating in her hair. That sensation of the strands wisping about or staying compact tight. Saeris let her lips part with the next inhale, dual breathing through nose and mouth to taste the air.

 

“Feel.” Morrigan crooned softly, a whisper of her magic flowing over Saeris to help her feel more aware of how she connected. How real the world was around her. The elfblooded woman was grateful as until then she had not been able to contemplate twisting her reality as she did in the fade. Sensing Morrigan's magic briefly seemed to light up her brain with how different and where the world was when awake.

 

The next breath in and she spread hands and toes wide with a rush of laughter that came out more a sharp sound, mana pouring over her in ecstasy as for the smallest of moments she was only magic, energy, wild, free..

 

And then she was _power_ and strength. Loyalty of flesh and bone, fur and fang. Joy ran through her at the amassing of scents, and she bounded, snapping at the air. She'd done it!

 

Laughter, pleased and content bubbled over from Morrigan. “Of course you have done it! Well done Saeris! I always knew you were a bitch.” Yet Morrigan was kneeling now and grabbed the shapechanged woman by her fur at her jaws. The same bright citrine eyes stared back at her, intelligence betraying the mind within. “You want to know what you look like I assume?”

 

A huff of air to Morrigan that made the dark haired woman chuckle. “Not copper as your hair, though I half expected it to be honest. No, you look like the hounds back in the Wilds. Bits of black down your head and back, tail, looks like you got your tail in ink fool girl. It moves into a light brownish hue and then white with bits of gray. A good mix of colors, you'd be mistaken for a wolf at a distance. Even your head looks like it but your jaws are a bit broader, more powerful I think. Your tail is a bit fluffier too. Yes, you are assuredly Twiceblooded. Not a chasind would suspect you to be anything other than the most prized bitch of a liter.”

 

Saeris pushed against her hands to rest her head on Morrigan's shoulder, tail wagging slowly before she regally stepped back, and tilted her skull to the side. Grasping the invite Morrigan chuckled before shifting into that of a bear. The two witches escaped then, to explore the world until they would rejoin the others come nightfall.

 

Lost in the sensations of the world spread out beneath her paws, Saeris ran. Perhaps the Blight was coming and the world may be ending, but she snatched a bit of happiness for herself and knew Morrigan felt the same.

()()()()()()()()()()

 

 


	4. Dalish and Werewolves

AN: Many events in DAO will be glossed over as this is more on Saeris' journey and she will not go everywhere. That said this is probably one of the longest canon quest parts that will happen.

()()()()()()()()()

 

Surana was not pleased when it came time to gather the rest of them as he had apparently found the dalish. His lips were pressed thin and tight, reminding Saeris of when they'd be listening to a more dull instructor in the tower drone on. He wouldn't even explain why they were moving camp to stay within the one of the Dalish, just gritting his teeth tightly. “It's easier to show.”

 

Werewolves.

 

Much of the interaction between their party and the Dalish Saeris kept out of. Her tongue almost bleeding from how sharply she bit it, out of habit when hearing the traditional greetings. When hearing lilting voices call.

 

She was _not_ Lavellan anymore.

 

The distance had never hurt like this before. These dalish looked at her and only knew her as one of the shemlen, sneering at her and belittling Surana, who came to them a Gray warden asking for aid that had been pledged and calling him a flat ear. The next turn insisting he aid them. Something ignited in her gut at it, dark and molten fire.

 

“If you glare at them any fiercer, they're going to melt.” Morrigan said idly from at her side. “With how sticky sweet they all are, flickering as useless as little butterflies..”

 

In her own way Morrigan was inquiring as to her well being. She could not, would not, tell her. Not when her determination to never be found by her phylactery was so strong but the words burned in her mouth.

 

“Judgmental fools, as bad as those they condemn. Like maggots snug in the the rotting flesh around them and unaware of how putrid they're surroundings are.”

 

Morrigan's golden eyes locked onto her gaze. “Caution, Twiceblooded. The trading of one skin for another does have an impact on your nature.” A reminder. A warning. Also, a question. “Spiders sense naught here, nor do insects...and those are my primary.”

 

“My hackles are up.”

 

“Clearly. Indeed one could guess the school of magic you are truly drawn to if they glanced correctly and saw the little sparks along your fingers, the frizzing of your hair.” Morrigan smirked then. “Pretty enough, if pointless as a display. Cover your powers, bitch. Best to wait unseen.”

 

Saeris opened her jaw and stretched it as if she was in her canine form, shaking her body visibly. It helped. “Something foul is in the air, the soil.”

 

“The werewolves.”

 

“it's _here_.”

 

Morrigan inclined her head then, frowning. “Something we are not privy to then. Though I wonder how you sense it?”

 

_Da'halla stretching her fingers over the earth, coaching Saeris to do the same. “We are elves, da'len and our nature is a part of this world. The earth is our roots as much as the stars are our leaves. The dalish remember how to read the land and are sensitive to it, but my father taught me to ken it far greater. I'll teach you now but be aware you'll always be tied to the earth for it.”_

 

“ _Is that a bad thing, mamae?”_

 

“ _No, but called to the green and growing means sometimes it demands aid. It is why so many of the ancestors from the dales chased down humans who burned great swathes of land to plant their fields, hearing the distress call out.”_

 

Something had twisted the forest and it was itching at her. Making her on edge, demanding protection. Saeris sighed. “I think Alistair and Surana are about to volunteer us to find a cure.”

 

“Of course they are. Bleeding hearts.” Morrigan sneered but there was a resigned air to her as well. “If they take me you are coming. I will not hear otherwise.”

 

“Need someone else to talk to not determined to reunite lovers or rescue little kittens?”

 

“....I think I'll be sick.”

 

Morrigan moved away, not wishing to listen to the elder's tales any longer and knowing they would not set out until afternoon Saeris let her feet lead her to a place that had been a comfort no matter where the clan had rested. The halla pens. Her eyes danced in amusement seeing them sniff in her direction, wary, cautious before deciding she was not the dangerous sort and moving towards her open palm and the bit of apple she offered.

 

So, they could sense the other form of her now permanently a part of her magic. Twiceblooded were hounds, guards, while they could fight and be a predator just as much. The mabari -Barkspawn of all things. Who had let Alistair name the dog?- had likewise given her a lingering look before seeming content to share space with the new hound in human guise. The basics of her nature, had not changed after all.

 

“/Yes little ones, I mean no harm../” She whispered in Elvhen, seeing their ears prick and more come to nip at her clothes. The familiar scent was soothing in a place where the gear and vallaslin pricked at her memories. She worked her jaw open again, knowing the kohl pattern would stretch with her skin but not smear thanks to the substance she mixed it with. She was painted in a symbol with more personal meaning to her than abasing herself to a god that may not exist.

 

It was discomforting though, being so close to a reminder of her path. At least it was not clan Lavellan they had sought out. Instead prodding at the open wound in her heart it made Saeris decide if they ventured near Redcliffe soon as proposed, she would try to track down her mother. Let the darkspawn come, the Chasind would never go overly far. Draw closer to Flemeth's hut perhaps, but they would not give up the land they guarded unless no other choice remained. She could not afford to let such past hurts chain her down and the best way to move forward was to confront them.

()()()()()()()

 

“I think I hate this forest.” Surana groaned as he sat down, shaking from exertion. These werewolves were so damned _hard_ to fight. “They just keep coming and..ugh..”

 

Saeris agreed with him silently, leaning heavily on the bark of a nearby tree, her forehead resting against it as sweat trailed along her forehead. Her limbs felt weak, tired. Too much mana used. It was probably why she had no warning, dazed as she was, until the werewolf was upon them. She felt the bite as it snapped her staff in two, claws striking at her side and reflecting off the shield she summoned in place. The bite then, grazing her arm as it had shattered the wood she held was unnoticed as she took a deep breath and reached within her. She did not have enough mana for much but this? Anger and determination fueled her, the roaring of blood in her ears as she did not hear the cries and rushing forms of her companions.

 

Recklessly she reached through herself to the connection she had with the fade and bore down upon the werewolf with that same molten dark energy she'd felt crawling along her gut since they came to this forest. The explosion of the air as it burst into streams of fire, held within tight circles only by her will surrounded Saeris. The air was super heated, the ground turning to ash and stone liquifying under the massive firestorm. Hand outstretched she glared, and then fell to her knees. Bleeding.

 

Surana hissed a cold spell to cool the earth and rushed towards her, pouring an elfroot potion and then a lyrium one down her lips, berating her. It was strange though. How much she hurt. She shouldn't hurt that badly..

 

“You were bitten.” Came the voice of Alistair. “You're going to become like them. A monster.”

 

Saeris groaned, already feeling the tainted curse seeking her out, wishing to spread. Gnawing on her veins from her arm. “I have time.”

 

“But at what cost?” Surana fussed. “You hurt? Of course you hurt you're making that face..”

 

Her eyes looked up and locked onto Morrigan. Right now she needed her clear thoughts. Sharp and biting as Morrigan was she was always direct. “Werewolves..are they contagious to animals?”

 

Clarity fell on the dark haired woman's face and she shook her head. “It took hold as a human but it would buy time. We'd need another to take your place as we explore though..”

 

They could figure that out, instead Saeris shrugged off Surana's hands and breathed in. A twist of power and she was now looking at them from four legs, the burning of her arm -now foreleg- subsiding to a dull ache. Easily forgettable.

 

“I still think you should stay back now, heal.” Surana fussed, once he and Alistair stopped freaking out about the fact she had learned to change her shape. Alistair was highly disproving but he also had a weakness for dogs and Morrigan was far too entertained about how he kept trying to _pet_ Saeris on the head.

 

“What good would that do her?” Morrigan asked, and then shook her head. “No. We've no time for that. Not even to get one of the others. Let us go on. If she cannot handle it I have little doubt we'll know.”

 

She couldn't cast spells like this, but honestly despite the lyrium potion Saeris didn't want to until she felt like she'd replaced what was lost naturally. Lyrium made her mind buzz and she didn't like it. At all. It tasted off. Every chance she had when Surana would be examining more clues on yet another distraction in the forest -she had to remind herself he had grown up in the circle and things like this were still novel to him- to flop down and rest.

 

She still _burned_ a bit on her arm. It felt like something itched. When they next came upon more werewolves she lunged for them with her teeth and snapping powerful jaws to crush legs and arms alike, leaving Alistair time to strike a blow with Surana and Morrigan flinging about the spells. A particularly nasty werewolf loomed up behind Morrigan and Saeris didn't think, just lunged for the throat and tore it out. The first kill in this form. The blood was thick and vile as it filled her mouth but she was not being squeamish.

 

While the boys looted the corpses, Morrigan looked down at her. “Well done. You've blooded your other skin truly now..” And Chasind they were from their fathers. Morrigan silently knelt and began to strike away fangs and claws, cutting into the admittedly luxuriously thick hide. They may be ugly beasts but the fur was deep and inviting.

 

“Uh is this the time?” Alistair started, and Morrigan spared no courtesy for him.

 

Instead she huffed. “Go and listen to that tree talk in the glade with Surana already.” Fortunately Alistair did so and with effort Saeris shifted back, crouched and snarling at the sudden pain that raced up her arm. She beat it back with a healing spell for a time, the potions a potent cocktail swirling inside of her form. It hurt, made her eyes water but it still hurt _less_ than a smite. Gasping for a bit of air she nodded and Morrigan traced the pattern onto her face's left side, to match the paint on her right. This time in blood. While Morrigan may not have followed the path's of the Chasind much, she knew that some of the strange old ways had always appealed to Saeris. Felt like stitches holding together her heritage though she never told Morrigan what the other half was.

 

“We'll have to hang the hide, retrieve it later but the rest we can take with us.”

 

“My thanks.” Saeris rasped out, almost shaking in exhaustion.

 

“Change back already fool. It's not that surprising, you killed it when it may have bitten me as well before I could act the least I can do is dress your kill for you since you're helpless out of your bitch form.”

 

Surana did make the decision they would go back to the camp and rest, and resupply. That only made things easier and Morrigan bundled up the hide for her. They were at least, not troubled on the trip back.

 

News of her affliction was not well received, but that she could stay in her canine form and only have pain but keep her mind stayed any more serious recourse. Saeris stayed huddled by Barkspawn, resting. After a few words exchanged with Wynne, who was fussing over her and the healing magic felt marvelous to soothe her fever, the older enchantress had apparently talked to a few of the Dalish and they were going to clean and prepare the hide and fangs and teeth for her. They did _not_ look pleased about it but Wynne just had this way about her. It was a pity she was too out of it, hiding in her canine senses as it were, to have witnessed the conversation between Wynne and Morrigan that must have occurred.

 

Morning came and they set off. Barkspawn was following permission or no and frankly it was nice. She may have known how to move in her new form but learning better to fight in it? Well she'd not turn down being taught by a Mabari. Even if Morrigan was far too entertained calling her a little puppy as she tried to mimic the bites and dread howls. She wasn't there yet. Closer to dread squeaks, Wynne had stayed behind to heal, and they had Zevran with the rest of the party for the purpose of picking locks and taps. Alistair and the two dogs were providing most the forward muscle and it was a very strange feeling being the first to charge in battle. Saeris..kind of _liked_ it..

 

They were provided with more humor when after marking a tree Barkspawn looked at her as if to encourage her to help out. Saeris promptly sat down, ears back and the group cracked up. Yeah. She wasn't doing that in public, thanks. The Mabari puppy eyes had no effect on her. Her nose demanding she do something about the dominant scent? That was different but she was still herself darn it, she would not give in. Instead she focused once more on the burning in her leg as they wandered. It became a series of tasks that Saeris found of less interest than mapping the forest by scent. Not something she would have thought of before.

 

The revenant? Oh she could have done without _that._ Or that now Surana was determined to track down this stupid armor.

 

A chill crept along her bones and she whined, the sound pained and small. Barkspawn nudged her with his head, to keep going. The burning got no worse but the unease she felt as they entered the ruins? Did.

()()()()()()()()

 

“Stay still.” Came a voice that was soft, lilting. It sounded like it came through the wind, a rustling of tree leaves and faint echos. It permeated the haze of pain in her mind and Saeris let out a whine, but relaxed. The sensation of someone stroking her head and rubbing her ears softly, very gently because of sharp nails, was peaceful. How had she gotten there?

 

“You have questions of course. It was very clever of you to take on your other shape to stave off the curse. Unfortunately I can feel the magic that has this form to you is new and young and shall be permanently affected for it. You'll always fight off your instincts even in that other form now.” Continued the woman. It was not a regretful tone, just a calm stating of fact. Feeling entirely secure, Saeris drifted back off because the voice made her feel safe and helped distract from the burning of her leg, and this utter scalding sensation along her side.

 

()()()()()()()

_When she woke it was in the Fade. Calmly she settled in, observing history play out. She watched as werewolves came in carrying her body, despite her size being that of an ordinary hound she seemed so tiny in their hold. Watched as they lay her, bleeding, large claw marks no..talons..along her side._

 

“ _The intruders fought the dragon.”_

 

“ _And you brought one to me?” Came that same female voice as a woman made of the dappled shadows beneath the trees, garbed in bark and glimmering lights stepped forth. Hair that was the richest of greens flowed down her and clad in naught but her power she seemed more regal then, than scores of nobility could ever hope to compete with in all their trappings. “I sense the curse has settled in but held back.”_

 

“ _She tore out the throat of one of our own.” Growled a blackened werewolf, bent low to the ground. It was not anger and malice so much as it was knowing. “Claimed a place in doing so. And she's already furred.”_

 

“ _We shall see.” The lady said as she knelt, drawing Saeris's head on her lap and stroking the fur. “She is not so far from survival. One of you used a poultice on her?”_

 

“ _You taught us to show mercy, Lady.”_

 

“ _And you have done well. Perhaps, this little cub can be a bridge. When the intruders come, see if they shall parley. I will speak to this one when she wakens.”_

 

“ _They would side with the elves!”_

 

“ _Perhaps.” The lady's long nails were so close to Saeri's throat then. A single move and she would bleed out, never knowing. “Or if they hear the truth, maybe there's hope in them yet.”_

 

()()()()()()()()

 

The conversations when Saeris awakened were entirely one sided, except it seemed with the werewolves all around them, the spirit of the forest had long since learned to read muzzles and ears. The sheer wrongness of what Zarathian had done pulled a whine from her throat and every wolf there relaxed. The sounds, the actions of being a canine could not be faked. There was no falsehood when furred.

 

“I sensed your presence as you slept. You're mixed in more ways than one are you not?” The Lady said, the werewolves having all gone ahead to meet her party. Saeris dipped her head, an ear flickering in acknowledgment.

 

“I see. As I said, this curse has changed you. Changed your form deeply as if it had twisted your human one. Instead it's been held back and brewing so you may not notice the changes for a while yet but it is there. You'll be wilder, stronger, larger..when like this. As I am caught between two dualities, I can teach you how to make it work as I have. A gift, if you promise to protect me should your companions not listen to reason. Though it isn't a nice gift to receive there are other..benefits.”

 

With what she had learned? She could do nothing else. The answer writ along her body language, the Lady shifted and plunged her elongated fingers into Saeris heart. An answering power surged then, against the curse, with it, and it was so achingly wrong to have her heart clutched in the hand of another. Even as it withdrew, healing her, Saeris could not help the howl. Pawing at her head and feeling something licking at her fur as if she was on fire, drowning. Starved from too much instead of too little air.

 

A sudden urge rendered her helpless and Saeris threw her head back in a howl, barely aware of the white wolf at her side doing the same.

 

Lightning and ice crackled around her and built up, the fade so near as to be like another wind ruffling her fur.

 

_*Like this, you have some magics available to you. You are still only a hybrid, but you can draw on the fade and become more. How far you will go is up to you.*_

 

The words echoed in her thoughts and she shook her fur. Feeling..alive. More. She knew now, knew she could have weapons in her fangs and claws, could alter the fade in ways most primal and wild despite being in her canine form. As the Lady said, it would take time, but the knowledge sat in the back of her thoughts. She rolled over to Witherfang, showing her throat and belly, in submission. In thanks.

()()()()()()()()()

 

Losing the Lady, thankfully with the death of the twisted elf who had started the entire mess out of his grief, had teartracks coursing down her face. The werewolves were human once more, some elves, all confused. While her own party talked over what to do next, Saeris faced them. It was only for a short time that she'd felt the Lady, remembered the hand around her heart, the rush of power, the voice in her thoughts...

 

“ _Find the Chasind.”_ Saeris spoke, a growl to her voice out of habit and twitched her muscles. A few wry grins met her, too much teeth in the action. They'd all take time to adjust.

 

“Will they take us in?”

 

“If you're willing to work and fight they will. They were in the Kocari Wilds, but with the Blight I cannot tell you where they've headed.”

 

“Who do we say sent us?” Swiftrunner asked and Saeris snorted.

 

“Use your wolf names, they're use names. Honored by the Chasind. If you say Twiceblooded sent you, they'll know me.”

 

“Just that?”

 

“We're not a flowery and talkative group. Besides, the humor of former werewolves going to the Dog Tribe? That's right up there with the actions of the gods. That you've met one..the Lady..were succored by her? Among them it won't do more than get you questions and understanding.”

 

“Will you join us?” The black haired man stood and crossed his arms beside Swiftrunner, the one whom had vouched for her since she tore the throat out of another. He was half crazed looking. The Chasind would love him.

 

“In time. For now I follow the Warden's.”

 

“A lot of the ..memories..may still come. The instincts. You find us if you need to talk to someone.” Swiftrunner warned. She understood, it was far more transmitted in the bite's curse than just a form. The Lady had been woven in and through it all to keep it alive, there were things already scratching at her thoughts she would need to meditate and put to rights.

 

“Good hunting.” Agreed the black haired male and Saeris grinned, feral, wild, she could feel it in her muscles as she saw the same wolfish grin returned to her. It would take adjusting to. She'd need Morrigan's help to tame this new ferocity in her, the wildness that had gone from enough to fill her cupped hands to a bathtub over just a few days being cursed.

 

“Good hunting.”

 

 


	5. In plain sight

AN: To make my life easier I'm going to update this story every Saturday. I've a weekly rotation now so I can add to them all week but they'll get posted regularly for each of my stories.

()()()()()()()()()

 

“You know, my mother was Dalish.” Zevran stated idly as they grouped around the fire, not far at all from the Dalish campground. They were able to go and visit if need be considering the honoring of the treaties but would not for now. Instead they were heading back towards Lothering, on to Redcliffe.

 

“Oh?” Alistair looked over and opened his mouth in the usual fashion. “I didn't think they'd have Dalish whores.”

 

There was not even a heartbeat to realize what he had said before Alistair was shrieking, batting at his hair which was standing on end, shaking off the lingering bits of electricity as they crackled along his armor. Nonchalance permeated Saeris's demeanor as she turned a page in the tome on shapeshifting that the Dalish merchant had. She'd learned it from Morrigan, and now the two witches were more laughing over what it wrote down. Clearly, it was meant to mislead someone into set forms rather than finding ones that were a match for your person. The problem with information in books is that _most_ mages were trolls and took great pleasure in providing misinformation in their books. Indeed, it was a fine reminder considering even Flemeth's grimoire they'd gained from the tower. The missing pages still safely hidden amongst Saeris's things even from Morrigan. She had not shared them with her, had no intention of doing so. They were not _that_ close of friends.

 

“What was that for witch?” Alistair glared over, because out of the mages he traveled with Surana was the pyromaniac, Wynne healed, and Morrigan was more apt to drain his strength or swarm him with insects. When it came to lightning, ice, or just plain strange uses of magic, that was Saeris's doing.

 

“Has it occurred to you Alistair that insulting the resident assassin may end up with more than a slight bit of blood loss at best? I wouldn't eat anything you don't prepare for a while.” She hummed then. “Listen to this part Morrigan...when in the form of a bear it is known to be twisted and ill formed. Someone never learned to put in the hard work did they?”

 

“Wonder if they ended up rutting with the beasts and it fractured their minds. T'would not surprise me.”

 

“Hm. There's a new level of wrong. Glad you all ended that curse before I had to see if it would have made me even more depraved.” Saeris agreed, glancing up at Morrigan. The citrine eyes met gold and the two smirked. This was high entertainment as the entire camp had fallen silent in horror at their talk. Sten tended to entirely ignore them, thinking that both of the witches were more vile than ever. Of course Morrigan _was_ always jokingly hitting on the qunari to tease him.

 

“You do seem a little more of a bitch, but I think it an improvement.” Morrigan nodded, she reached down to turn the page. “do you want me to do the braids in the back for you with your new fangs later?”

 

“Please.”

 

And that was the other thing, it seemed most the party save Surana and Wynne were also more than surprised to see Morrigan assisting Saeris in letting her Chasind heritage out more. Given a few days among the Dalish to get better gear as they were relieved about the curse being broken, though every time they started to wail about the end of their long lived keeper who had 'discovered a way to live forever once more' it had tested both women's ability to keep their mouths shut instead of telling the truth. Surana and Alistair had been a united front on that though, they needed the Dalish and so for now they could say nothing. The only advantage was the way they took to being able to resupply from their stock and even Morrigan was giving Zevran his due, for he had found a pair of gloves made by the Dalish and not ceased talking about how wonderful they were. It turned out, he was right.

 

Dalish leather _was_ vastly superior to anything else they'd ever found. Though, the expression on the leather master when the two Chasind witches tried to explain what they wanted? It was easy enough to get Morrigan a new skirt made, this time with more loops and chains to hang items and trinkets from. They'd neither of them been skilled enough in drawing -and Saeris was certain she may give away her heritage if she started- and it took a lot of explanation and Morrigan helping to drape fabric to no avail. Lelilana until then not really socializing with either of them, had come to the rescue.

 

It turned out the former bard had the most unnerving talent for fashion and when Morrigan and Saeris managed to explain what they wanted, with Saeris finally pulling out the sketches Tranquil Jennifer had made for her of her facial ink and the other pages of inspirations she had done, not realizing that it would not have gone into body art for Saeris had no way to paint on her own back daily? Well Leliana and the leather master had gone to work and the etching on the leather paid full homage to the Tranquil whom had perished when the circle was beset by bloodmages. Not that it would be ready for a week or two.

 

“Where did you come up with the designs, dear?” Wynne had asked, coming to join them once done negotiating for more elfroot than they could possibly need. Well, they did have Alistair.

 

“Jennifer.”

 

“The tranquil?”

 

“She was a..phenomenal artist. She helped design my face paints.”

  
Wynne had looked stricken then and nodded. “I remember when she came to us a decade or so before you did. Just a wee little thing, was always drawing on the walls and in books she shouldn't. Couldn't help herself, said she needed to doodle to think properly. She was so terrified of her harrowing that she requested to be made tranquil. I didn't know..”

 

“That she could still create? I had to tell a lot of stories, but she'd just start drawing.”

 

“It means a lot that you kept them. I had forgotten, in all this mess that you used to seek out the Tranquil. It baffled most the Senior enchanters you know.”

 

“Ren taught me about muscles and bone and sinew when he would butcher, remembered his healcraft. Jennifer drew for me. Owain helped me learn how to read the confusing library system.I was used to oral tales growing up.Tyler and Mala used to let me help down in the storage rooms and I would take up books I wanted to translate with Ser Gregoire and Irvin's permission..” Saying it aloud Saeris realized she'd known a great deal of the tranquil. Most mages knew possibly Owain and no more. They were mere fixtures in the tower. Glancing over she saw as Wynne bit her lip.

 

“I don't know most those names.”

 

“They were once mages. It is cruel to forget that they are still people, just because they lost a part of themselves that permeates all that we are.”

 

Morrigan's hand made a gesture, she would not reach out idly after all. “And yet those of us who seek freedom are called wrong.” It had ended the discussion.

 

So here they were, resting after another long days travel and with Saeris still exceedingly on edge. The fire in her veins from the werewolf curse had her snappish and wary and it was exhausting.

 

“Go meditate. Or run. Something.” Morrigan finally snapped and stole the book from her hands, offer to fix the braids forgotten. It was only then Saeris realized she'd been _growling_.

 

“Oh for...right. I'll be back.” She didn't say anything further. Her belongings if she wasn't back in time would be taken by Wynne or Morrigan for her and she'd track them down. Instead, Saeris left at an easy run, furred and feeling better for it. Maybe she'd just stay a dog for a while.

()()()()()()()()

 

She wasn't getting better. Snappish and wild, fey. To the point Sten actually threatened to show her her place at one point and Saeris had actually growled at _him_. Oddly, that seemed to win her some scant approval from the qunari. Once he growled back. Baffling male.

 

When they were at the area they'd turn north to head to Redcliffe though, under the stench of darkspawn and blight, the wind brought to her senses the Kocari wilds.

 

_Home._

 

“I..I need some time. I'll join up with you soon..”

 

Surana looked as if he wanted to argue but then shook his head, smiling. He remembered her tales back in the tower, knew she never stopped thinking of herself as one of the wilder folk. “We'll be in redcliffe a bit. We're going to head to Denerim after that. Okay?”

 

Saeris nodded and looked at Morrigan. The two witches remembered the passages in the grimoire. Maybe, just maybe, Saeris could get some answers.

 

“Run swift, and leave no trail.” Morrigan intoned just under hearing for anyone not standing as close as they. It was as close to a blessing as her friend would permit, not liking sentimentality.

 

Saeris turned towards the wilds. If the Chasind dwelled there still it would be not far from Flemeth's hut, and that, she knew how to find.

()()()()()()

 

The Kocari wilds may be suffering from a blight but they weathered it well. It was though the wilds refused to acknowledge the presence of the Darkspawn, the fog was still thick, the areas of swamps still threatening to drown anything near. Great rocky outposts and ruins still remained, the bones of great civilizations long gone. There were the rare wooded areas, thick and lush deeper inside the Wilds than any would know to find if you were not familiar with it's paths. One of those, winding round and again, powerfully protected by magic, led to the hut of the Witch of the Wilds.

 

“Well girl. I see you're not only alive but seem to have found yourself.” Flemeth was waiting at the entrance to her hut when finally Saeris made it to the end of the path. Something tight around her chest loosened then, here in the kocari wilds and hearing that raspy voice. To one who knew her as all that she was. When she had been a scrappy little girl not yet tasting lyrium, not yet exposed to demons or the pain of a smite. When her only knowledge of magic was wild and wickedly playful. Good memories came from that voice.

 

“Found and lost and reclaimed. I have missed your presence.”

 

“Oh? In that lofty spire with so many mages prattling about their magics, and the templars watching every step? You thought of me there?”

 

“I found you there.” Saeris smiled, watching as the yellow eyes, ever more brilliant than what Morrigan had and eerie in their hue, glistened. Flemeth snorted then, her hands out.

 

“Oh? And think you ken old Flemeth now do you?”

 

“Not at all. I think I found a book that you knew could be found, perhaps even intended that way to direct and control templars. It certainly had code enough.”

 

“Did it now.”

 

“/When the warring factions finally agreed to peace, it was with great loss. And the generals of each had become something more to the people./” Saeris repeated the parts that had been hidden between the lines telling of the old tales. Ones she knew too well from the time among the Dalish to not detect the alteration of the words. Flemeth chuckled at her then and inclined her head.

 

“Come in girl. No point in yammering away all night in the cold. Darkspawn are about you know. Even my magic can only hide us so well when the wind takes our scents to those who would feast upon our flesh.”

 

The inside of the hut had not changed. It was still clean as could be, curious considering the surroundings, but the low beds, the open table. The simmering stew pot on the fire. Shelves and the false wall behind which lay the entrance to Flemeth's cellar where she kept ingredients and supplies cool using the nature of the earth itself. Saeris rolled her neck, hearing a satisfying crack as she did so. The clatter of her braids in their ornamentation rustling along with her loose hair, she'd not cut it since she'd left and it reached her upper back now a days.

 

“This is new.” Flemeth's hand was in her hair and Saeris obediently stilled. The ever present pouring of power that came from the old crone was daunting, all the more so now that Saeris had been in the world and seen that even the first enchanter had nothing on this one apostate. “What sort of fangs were these from? They seem a wolf..but a **dreadfully** large one..” And for some reason Flemeth was laughing.

 

“We encountered werewolves.” Saeris turned when she heard the startled sound and smiled, taking the seat that was gestured for her at the table as Flemeth eased her old bones down. “In the Brecillian forest where a clan of Dalish settled.” Slowly she shared the tale, baring her arm and the scar, thick and nasty as the immense wolf bite was not that she had realized how lucky she was to keep her arm at all during that time. How fortunate that it had not snapped bone, the force disrupted by the breaking of her staff but if she hadn't acted with her spell so swiftly it could have adjusted the bite.

 

“You blackened it.” Flemeth said in amusement, though the color was truthfully more a rich green. They had been limited in dye options that the dalish had.

 

“I feel it clashes with my coloring.” Saeris laughed. “But I didn't want it just to be faint. It was a werewolf! Surviving that was something else.” She continued then, telling of Morrigan helping her clean and save the trophies from her kill, of the strange ruins. The dragon.

 

“You fought a dragon?” Flemeth sounded both impressed and entirely against the idea.

 

“It thought we were there for lunch. I was just in my other skin so I couldn't do much but try to distract it, went for the wings. It got my side.”

 

“Well strip girl, and let me look.”

 

Pulling off her robes, still the awful circle standard material and wasn't long before she was just in her smalls.

 

“...blessed fate upon you da'len.” Flemeth stated and shook her head, hand reaching out to touch the injuries. Healed by the lady and with a rich shimmering appearance. The dull green and silver hue was clearly not anything done by man. “What caused their coloring and the almost branching look to them?”

 

“The spirit of the forest. Bound in the curse. The werewolves called her Lady, but her other form was that of an immense white wolf, branches and thorns covering it.”

 

“That tone of yours worries me.” Flemeth said, noticing the almost devoted way she was speaking.

 

“I was changed by the curse.” Saeris admitted and then shrugged. “Easiest to show you, Morrigan helped me find my other skin but the Lady said it was too young and new when I was infected..” A breath out and she was looking up at Flemeth, her multi-hued coat marked along her side faintly the scarring mostly hidden in the change of colors.

 

“Twiceblooded.” Flemeth agreed with a smirk. “But yet, yes, I see where you are changed. Not much right now, a whisper in the veins but it will grow. **You** will grow. Only careful eyes will notice in time that you are definitely no common beast, but you should blend in fine otherwise. A useful form, especially here where it seems not even the most crazed fool would attack a dog if given another choice. A way to hide. The best secrets, girl, are those kept in plain sight. Use this form shamelessly and hide yourself as much as possible on this journey. Blossom like the choking vine in your chasind appearance so that if you wash the paint, smooth and tie the hair and change the robes none would see you. Keep that fierce nature brimming so eager, the storm ready to break upon the world, inside.”

 

Saeris sat down and scratched at her ears with a hind leg, feeling just fine like this. Something about Flemeth's domain stole any territorial nature from her and the snappish and feral feeling had subsided. She acknowledged this as the realm of a more powerful woman and was quite at ease with it. It was a peaceful sensation, as though the very blood inside her veins assured her that here she was safe, here nothing would happen that Flemeth did not desire. She was the immense mountain range upon which the winds and storms that made up Saeris's nature could crash but never move the mountains. She needn't hold back, her control could be eased and it was a burden she had not been aware of holding onto until now. What changes had been made to her mana from the curse and the Lady's gift, the one she was warned would not be pleasant?

 

“Change back.” Flemeth looked her over and hummed watching the flash of light that preceded the switch. “Need to work on that, best if you've a secret to not announce it to the world. Well girl..keep your head on straight and that surge of power and ferocity will not be a problem. We just need to help you reassert control to get those instincts handled. They grew several times too fast and you probably don't even realize how they are benefiting you. Easy enough to fix. Now, tell me about your time in the circle. I am curious what the caged beast learned when pretending to be tamed.”

 

The evening passed over stew and teas as once Saeris was dressed again she shared _everything_. The tranquil, her cozying up to the templars which made Flemeth cackle at her shrewd actions. Her creating a bolt hole when given a room and having several hiding spots beside that she had worked on over time so there were places to tuck items she did not wish to be caught having, reading, how she had tricked herself out of her harrowing which made Flemeth coo in delight and laugh that Twiceblooded were known for being crafty as cats when they felt like it. Flemeth was entranced when she spoke of Valor and the training they underwent encouraging her to continue doing so in her dreams even if there was no spirit to actively spar with. The tales of the other mages, one whom she had met as a warden and made Flemeth shake her head, muttering about Fate. When she confessed about finding the grimoire and certain pages she had removed, Flemeth snorted.

 

“Have them with you?”

 

“yes.”

 

“Let me see.”

 

As they did belong to Flemeth, much as she had not had a chance to revisit and memorize them, Saeris nodded. A bit of work with her knife and the layer she'd stitched in her pack to hide them from nosy camp mates, a small rune stitched in as well that one of the tranquil had done to make your eyes pass over the area without noticing, until the documents came free, the bits of oil cloth having kept the pages safe. As she stood to walk back over Flemeth shook her head. “Throw them into the fire.”

 

For just a moment, Saeris's fingers curled protectively but this was Flemeth's work. Her words. Her knowledge and damned if Saeris didn't respect the legendary woman. Though it burned her as surely as the paper would once fed into the hearth she did as asked. It wasn't until the last page was blackened and gone that Flemeth smiled. Oddly it felt as though Saeris had just passed some strange test.

 

“Trust is a rare gift you know. For one like yourself who has learned not to trust fully simply from the world around you, to always be wary, it is even more precious. Indeed can you think of any save your mother that you trust so implicitly or am I the only one?”

 

“Just you.” Came the answer after a long pause. It was the truth though, Saeris would _always_ trust her mamae, but with her father gone as much as she liked and trusted others it was only to a point. Yet she had told Flemeth everything not holding back a single secret. Indeed, the tales of her and Surana rutting swiftly before being caught amongst the shelves of the library had Flemeth laughing over her own days of youthfulness. Her blood, her heart and very soul cried out that this woman was dangerous and lethal and could destroy the world if she so desired. That same nature was what had the form of Saeris as a hound that had easily ripped out the throat of a werewolf and attacked a dragon ready to curl up at her feet.

 

“Why?” And yet there was happiness in Flemeth's eyes. Perhaps she had missed someone being willing to admit they trusted her, certainly Morrigan would not have.

 

“I do not have an answer. I just do.”

 

“Sometimes child, that is the best answer there is. It takes a very wise soul to utter those words, words that have choked kings and if uttered could have saved empires... _ **I don't know**_...Well, to make up for the knowledge you just destroyed..and it wouldn't have done you much good either but I'm glad Morrigan won't see it. It is meant to mislead and I'd rather she didn't forget her lessons as getting them to stick on her was often requiring being cruel. Will full girl. I've something else you'll find far more useful considering your situation and where your own magical talents lie. Come down with me to the cellar and I'll show you a few things you need to learn to make if you're going to keep following the Wardens. I would have given you time but this Blight and your getting bitten by a werewolf changes things..makes them need a shove to move along.”

 

“Because I gave your grimoire to Morrigan.”

 

“Yes.” Flemeth moved the rug, grasping the handle with strength that belied her wizened frame and heaved up the trap door. Before going to descend the ladder. “It was to be done, truthfully I was not certain how to get it back. I rather hoped you'd stumble on it and find a way to smuggle it out, if they hadn't broken you by then. But the old blood runs strong in you and stubborness and resilency was the hallmark of The People once. Though I admit, I did not expect you to be trailing after the Warden's I rescued and come back already mastering your other skin with the remnants of a powerful curse and blessing from a bound spirit in you both! Not that I'm sure which is the more damning, mind you. I suppose it depends on you in the end.”

 

“She's going to try and stop you...”

 

“By killing me? To keep me from taking her form?” Flemeth cackled. “Of course. It's part of the dance she plays, so determined to follow her own beat not realizing it was one I laid out for her. She's missing much of the information thanks to you and will act sooner rather than craft and plan. It's better this way. Far better. She won't kill me though, not truly...”

 

“I'm glad to hear it.”

 

“...a sentimental thought. One I had not expected to hear again in many a lifetime. Most who touch on the powers of Fate fall to corruption seeing only their goals. But in you? The wilderness of your father's blood and the steady old powers of your mother's have mingled. Such a different creature you could be. You know I'm using you and yet you do not mind, because you are that loyal hound. Twiceblooded indeed, willing to do so much so long as free and not against your own morals. The gods of many a culture will rail that they could not collar you.”

 

“I'd bite them I think.”

 

Flemeth roared in laughter, approving. “Never forget that. If you ever do meet a god and know them to be such, bite them. That's a good girl.”

 

The cellar stank of plants and rot, dry earth and strange components. Some staring at them from the jars. At the work table Flemeth began in her teaching voice, rasping and yet soothing to listen to. She made Saeris repeat the ingredients, how to gather and harvest, how to utilize over and over until she knew every step was there. Only then did she show her the next part, the crafting of the various unguents and oils. Ones to help her mind when she dreamed in a place that she dared not attract the attention of unsavories. More to help her delve deeper in places she knew she was safe.

 

“Once the ancient elves used these rarely as aids only but they had centuries to learn and you've but months. You are not to scrimp on their use. I'll not see you fall to a demon just because you forgot to take caution, your powers are at the point to be dangerous now.”

 

“Is that why you said to keep to my form in dreams?”

 

“The spirits that once held you close taught you to consort with those that were not formed of will and personalites yet, hid you beneath their scents as if you rolled in mud. Cake it on your fur to survive. Things are coming and especially with the blight, best to be hidden.”

 

One day bled into the night, and back again. From Flemeth she was getting a crash course in how the ancient elves taught their 'Fade Walkers' and being interrogated on it greatly. She was having lore pushed on her as well, much of it only snippets and related to the items she was learning to make, the plants, but mostly it was potions, poultices, techniques. She was being forced to work on her shifting faster and faster, to try and draw on the Fade and find what other changes the Lady of the Forest had caused when helping her. That generally meant _fighting_ Flemeth in her hound form and with the crone flinging every spell she wanted in her direction. It was a very good thing she'd had so much practice healing and Saeris made the decision to actively seek out Wynne for more lessons.

 

She was too tired to dream.

  
By the end of a few weeks however her nature was fully controlled despite the severe changes from the cursed bite, the ferocity present and lingering like an itch but under her entire choice if she acted on it or not. Save the growling. Flemeth snickered every time. “It appears that at least is permanent. I suppose your best bet is to play up the Chasind as savages part.”

 

“Flemeth? Thank you.”

 

“Don't get sentimental girl.” But there was a smile on the old crones face, before she looked at her hair, where her ears were hidden. “You're something new in a world old and broken, even I can be surprised it seems. Now..come here..”

 

Kneeling before a sitting Flemeth which always seemed to make the old crone startle before settling, she reached her hands over the wolf bite. “Green is the hue of the Fade, the color the Fade walkers bore in ancient times however was a deep gold mixed with silver and copper, it was rare and usually made artificially but the blend was highly valued and only those who were acknowledged as Fade Walkers were to wear it formally in large amounts no matter if it ran to the silver, gold, or copper hues more. It was called 'Electrum' amusing considering I named you Stormbringer, no? Watch my mana carefully to learn this spell da'len, I shall do it only once.” The energies warped, crackling, and the Fade seemed almost awake and paying attention, Saeris's eyes wide as the energies pooled, seeking out the ripped and torn flesh that had been purposefully agitated to heal in raised scars with the dye and soot, and saw the twist that was not entirely a healing magic.

 

Nothing happened. Curious Saeris looked up but Flemeth just sat there, waiting. Licking her lips Saeris scooted back, resting on her heels and focused. The feel of the Fade, the change in it building in her mind as if she was using a familiar spell, but then she felt something just close..like trying to write and not exactly copying the letters. She shifted from what Flemeth showed her to what her instincts were insisting on, felt the Fade latch on, eager, joyful.

 

The marking changed.

 

It was now golden, almost reflective but just shy of it. Slowly Saeris turned her arm, appreciating the warm copper like tone, fresh brass even.

 

“Well done.” Flemeth spoke softly. “Very well done. Wear them with pride and don't worry about if you only have ash to mark the scars from now on. It's a small gift, but it suits you.” Flemeth chuckled. “Not that it helps much with your face paints, but I doubt you want to mark yourself in such a way as the Dalish now do you?”

 

Saeris was curious why there was a sharp warning tone to Flemeth at that but shook her head. “I never felt the need to get a vallaslin, I've no Dalish god I'd pledge myself to, no Chasind deity that calls me. And someone told me to bite any god I met.”

 

“That is not a bad thing. Indeed, it seems in general the People are always too quick to bend a knee. Another thing, the places I told you to seek out for knowledge? Go alone. Sleep in them to learn.” There was an amused look to Flemeth then as she reached out to tug on one of Saeris's braids tipped in one of the werewolf fangs. “The last bit of advice I give you, Saeris Twiceblooded, Stormbringer..Remember when you wander the Fade do so in your other skin, and do not craft another if you can help it. Keeping to only a single other form makes it stronger, able to do more. Stay Twiceblooded and make it yours beyond any other's ability to call such a shape their own.”

 

It was only as Saeris stepped out the door the last comment came. “And don't tell anyone, especially Morrigan, where you learned what you have. Blame the books.”

 

Saeris nodded at the sharp warning in the legendary witches voice and shifted forms. It would be easier to travel that way and fortunately Flemeth had now taught her how to move things in and out of the Fade when she did so, all her pack and staff no went with her, as Morrigan had not been able to explain. They were just lucky she'd managed in her clothing at all or the Brecilian forest could have been a strange encounter indeed!

 

She caught up with the group not far outside of Redcliffe, heading towards the circle of magi again. “We're going to get the circle's assistance, it was Jowan behind so much of this under Loghain's directive..can you believe it? Foolish bloodmage offering a rite and then mentioned a mage would have to go in. Surana and I both were having none of that! Morrigan too, nice to know that sharp tongue of hers can be put to good use lecturing Jowan on his addled scheme.” Wynne filled her in. “..what am I supposed to do with that boy! If he was any younger I'd put him over my knee!”

 

It was later that Saeris sought out Surana, her voice rough but she had to know. “Jowan?”

 

“He...yeah. He didn't look good but..” Surana groaned, running his hand through his hair. “Heh. We haven't talked much really have we? I mean since..”

 

“No.” And she'd missed it, missed him. Missed their friendship, not so much the clumsy rutting together but there were other ways to distract themselves out here instead of being locked in a tower. “But at least you came back, Surana.”

 

“I...look you were right. I was infatuated with the idea of having someone but you're just my friend. Dear to me, I guess..I don't know. I didn't like that you seemed so calm about no longer being with me and then it became a point I had to prove. That I was worth that sort of attention. Not just another throw away beneath Templar eyes. Seems so petty now, but I guess the Blight has a way of changing perspectives.”

 

“You're telling me this because someone caught your attention aren't you?”

 

“Maybe?”

 

“...well you can't be any worse than Cullen and Amell.”

 

“No one is that bad.” Surana agreed and the two shared an awkward smile. Irrevocably changed and yet both heading back to the tower. “You know though I think Jowan had one thing right Saeris, I wish I knew where my phylactery was to destroy it.”

 

She could agree even though it could not affect her, she still disliked knowing it was out there. “Maybe we'll peek in the records while there?”

 

“Good idea.”

 

Mostly though Saeris was looking forward to sleeping a night in the tower and seeing Valor again. She had not seen Curiosity or Patience since the blight let her outside the walls but after all this time she didn't remember them well enough to let them in her barriers like the tranquil and Flemeth had taught her, the later in the grimoire. And now? Her hand slipped down to her pouch where the oil was, easily hidden as a perfume that she could dab a little on without drawing attention with a faint woodsy scent to aid in blocking her from those who would seek her out in the Fade idly. She had no wish to match wits with a demon. Sighing, she began to unbraid her hair as they walked.

 

If she was going back to the tower, it was best to look a little _less_ wild.

 

“I'll vouch for you, child.” Wynne said, stilling her motion. “There is _nothing_ wrong with seeking out your heritage. Expressing it. I'd keep the fur a secret but the rest? Goodness we've had stranger in the tower.”

 

“Those of us with magic in our veins yes, but to the Templars?”

 

Wynne looked over, smart and wise both and hummed. “So much of your actions are suddenly made clear to me. You are terrified of the Templar's, not fond of them?”

 

“When they smite they tear my soul from me and silence the fade. They could make of us tranquil. Just because I've befriended a few doesn't mean I am not fully aware they watch me for a single sign that I would be best branded or beheaded.”

“I wish I could say you were not correct in that. Still, it is our lot. Perhaps there shall be far more leeway once this is all over, traveling and aiding the Gray Warden's in their quest is likely to grant a great deal of leeway.”

 

Saeris met Morrigan's eyes from where the dark haired woman was walking. They shared the same thought with a frown.

 

_Or a great deal more suspicion._

 

This would be the last time Saeris went to the tower, she was determined of that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just crack up knowing that Saeris has No Clue who Flemeth is.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Still in Origins but setting up for the coming chaos in DA2 is fun. I think next chapter will have a familiar hairless apostate in the Fade. I've only got vague plans for this story so it's interesting seeing how all of a sudden the relationships are being written in a way I wouldn't have planned. Gregoire in DAO though was surprisingly mellow compared to not only Meredith but ALL templars save Cullen and a few others come DA2? Holy moly they are nuts.

()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Ever did the tower that kept the circle of magi snug within it's grasp remain unchanging. They moved to the small boats quietly, Surana, Wynne, Alistair, and Saeris. In the presence of two Gray Warden's the twiceblooded woman prayed not to be held once more under the whims of Templar's. Her hand sought out and clasped Wynne's tightly, as she did not usually do. But right now, her face paint was removed, her hair pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck with the braids and adornments twisted to hide within it. She looked more 'normal' than when she had left the tower but a month and a half or two prior. It was a facade, one that now Surana and Wynne knew to be there. Panic seemed to claw at her back urging her to shift and run fast before they landed. Before the Templar's may circle them and her brief days of freedom be snatched away.

 

The scent of sandalwood and fern with jasmine made her take a deep breath though, the oil on her temples, down the back of her neck and anointing her wrists. Ones to help keep her wits about her and her instincts firmly under control. She was grateful for Flemeth's aid, because just out of hearing range were screams and calls from the nightmares that had taken place here and it was a dangerous thing for a dreamer. The ground still was soaked in the pervasive sense of loss and despair but it was wispier than when she had left.

 

“It'll be all right dear.” Wynne tried to reassure the younger sorceress. Truly, compared to the laughing and playful creature she had gotten to know out battling the darkspawn and aiding the Warden's it was wrong to see her so diminished now. To know that all along that quiet soul she had thought to be shy and perhaps a bit socially inept had been terrified and caged pacing along the bars. Seeking comfort in books and healing not just because of a love of them -though it was there- but because the Templar's terrified her. That she had experienced a smiting young enough and strongly enough to not risk it happening again. It happened at times, though that the girl had hidden amongst the Tranquil and made herself seem harmless had been likely her own saving from being sent to the Rite herself. For those whose connection to the Fade was greatest, whom did not seek healing as their forte only as Wynne had, often were not given the chance to become a risk.

 

And Wynne had witnessed the storms that Saeris called down with as little effort as she herself drew on the cantrips of creation. There were storm mages aplenty but they were considered a double edged sword the Templar's cracked down on harshly. But Saeris? She turned spells that had no storm aspect and created them. She'd made earth based magics meant to be a stone fist into a sand storm that had _shredded_ their enemies apart down to the bone. Had firestorms that blazed around her as easily as breathing, and the electricity that sparked along her fingers and hair, that turned the air to the distinctive scent of ozone when she became excited?

 

Perhaps it was there, that the Templar's had found comfort for they created such a scent after years of lyrium, and it was almost always hovering around Saeris slightly. Her ordeal with the werewolf curse had been painful to witness but Wynne had never blessed the ability to change ones shape until she watched as at least one of her little charges on this quest had been able to cease their screaming. To know as they left with the hound following them that if pained, she was not crying until her throat was raw and scratching at her skin until her nails bled as the elves in the camp had.

 

So Wynne pulled Saeris close under her arm as they looked upon the tower. “It'll be fine dear. Remember all the times Ser Gregoire humored your questions, and when Cullen and Thomas helped you get books out of your reach? Remember the good times. Focus there.” As Wynne reminded her she saw the deep breath in, the hold, and the nod as Saeris let it out. So far had the girl come but she was young yet, even if her eyes and powers were that of mages many times her age. “Worst case scenario, our Warden's can just threaten to conscript us.”

It was a bad joke but made Saeris chuckle and the tension ease a little more.

 

“Honestly I can relate. I had not realized how freeing it could be to travel without a guard and set scheduling to be maintained at all costs. It is..an experience I will be sad to put aside. I am old enough to go where the circle feels I am most needed, you? Perhaps no one will miss one small woman who can hide as a dog. Fereldan after all, is full of them.”

 

“Do you know where we would find ..where our phylactery are sent?” Saeris whispered softly, and those citrine eyes locked on Wynne's unblinking. The dangerous gaze of a hound with a scent trail but Wynne understood the real question. 'Will you help us?' That she trusted her enough to ask made the old healer soften even further. Ours. Of course, Surana.

 

“Hm. Records are usually kept in the Tranquil's care. Considering the nature of our quest, perhaps if I gave you permission to see if there are any other..known mages out there under permission whom we should approach with these treaties?”

 

A feral grin was her answer, one that was too big and childish for the woman she'd been fighting beside.

 

“Thank you, Wynne.”

 

“You _are_ my apprentice girl. I intend to make record of it formally while we are here as you are at least staying devoted to your studies. You should bring all of your notes up till this time along, we can make the men help carry it. A crate or two could be packed and sent to Redcliffe as well since we'll be staying there between journeys on the Bann's insistence while we tray to find a cure for the Arl once this mess with the boy is handled..” An excuse for her to bring anything she would not wish to stay behind. Or to arrange for it to be sent along.

 

Saeris was grateful but she fully intended to pare down her things so that almost all of them could travel with her. It was time she lived ready to step away the moment the quest was done and take nothing she couldn't carry. With the shift in how to store things in the Fade it gave her some room, but not too much. Anything that stayed in the Fade too long a time would not be able to come back out of it so it was more a less than a few hours thing. Impractical for anything but handy enough for the books she did not wish to lose. There were far more terrible things to keep in your own part of the other realm than libraries and since as a dreamer the Fade was different everywhere, but she could bring back into reality her own creations. It was just a matter of thinking like how the spirits did, as Valor had taught her. Judging from the way Flemeth had seemed baffled when Saeris had attempted to explain it, she didn't think that was normal.

 

Reuniting with the Templar's went of course, smoothly. Ser Gregoire expressed pleasure at the progress the Warden's were already making and highly approved of Surana coming to get Lyrium and mages instead of permitting Jowan to utilize his rite. Also that Surana had found a missing apostate for them went a great deal of the way to allay their suspicions in general. It didn't take long for Surana to accept the offer of their staying the night, real beds did a great deal for ones mood. In the interim Alistair went to talk to the Templar's, Wynne to restock, Surana to ask Irving for any advice on useful spells. Though she dearly wished to sleep early and visit with Valor, Saeris did not dare wait to find the records.

 

Sure enough as she was combing through the legitimate reason to be there -seeking mages out on license who may aid their cause- Ser Gregoire approached her.

 

“You have been doing well, out there I see. I am glad of it.” The honesty in his voice prevented Saeris from panicking as she looked up. The wan smile, the greater amount of silver in his hair. Wynne is right. Despite all he can do Ser Gregoire had never been the one to use a Templar's abilities on her. Indeed he had told her tales of his own youth and vigils, the long hours and reasons he had to fear mages. From what she's learned speaking with Flemeth, the hold he keeps on his templar's is a short leash and the mages may be in a gilded cage but it is a cage and not say, the Kirkwall gallows.

 

She cannot fault him his fears having her own.

 

“The world is vast, and I am but a small creature.” She nods with a smile. Ser Gregoire chuckles and goes to sit beside her, lumbering in his armor but perched on a crate. “I'm glad you returned. Oh don't look away. I'm no fool, Saeris. You've been good, very good indeed, but I've been at this longer than you've yet lived. I know the way a mage looks when they wish to turn apostate. Talk to me.”

 

“Here?”

 

“Yes. The Tranquil will not tell and who else would come? Now in my office there would either be sordid rumors or the mess with the boys all on edge. I did say you could always come to me, did I not, years ago?”

 

So caught up in her rushing blood and the freedom, the determination and the feelings of being competent and powerful as she has lately, Wynne's advice is all the more poignant. Looking up at him she nods, shamefaced. “Forgive me..”

 

“That I will not do, there is nothing to forgive. You came from the Chasind and the Dalish though I've never told what my men did when they found you. Two peoples known for their stubborn and wild nature. Rumor even says you're traveling with a Witch of the Wilds. If the worst influence she's given you is to want to see the world and be cautious, well, would that more mages had such vices.” And it is in his patient nature, the way he sits. Before he comes to a realization. “Surana and the boy, Alistair, you know he was going to be a Templar once? He could have even been here with the rest of us..they told you I was going to call for the Rite of Annulment..”

 

Saeris shudders but that panic in the back of her mind, the final reason she'd felt she couldn't trust the aged templar is finally voiced and she has to acknowledge the feeling of betrayal. Voice it. “I was hiding, tucked in my room and terrified. I wouldn't have known until they came to kill me.”

 

“..and I'm sorry.” Ser Gregoire says hoarsely. “When Surana and those with him offered to try and save the mages though? I could do no less than hope. I lead the men in prayer and it was all I could do to beg Andraste that you had escaped their clutches, had not been driven to such an act. The idea cut me to the quick, Saeris.”

 

“I fought some of them off.”

 

“Fought?”

 

“Um. They didn't expect me to actually strike at them with my dagger.”

 

“The tiny thing you used to help Ren prepare the chickens for the kitchen? That?” But it is with a large smile growing that Gregoire laughed and shook his head. “You're a good gi..no, a good woman, Saeris. So I'm willing to make you a deal as long as you never repeat it.”

 

Hope flutters in her breast and it is all those years of shakey trust, going to Gregoire even when scared with another book, praying he wouldn't learn what she really could do, wanted to learn to cast, upon which her tongue is held still.

 

“You return to the circle when this mess with the blight is over, you come back and willingly..and I'll let you go again. I'll personally sign the writ giving you permission to seek out whatever you want as long as you do two things, you send word of _any_ apostate that makes you concerned of what they are up to. I'm not so foolish as to think you'd turn in all of them. And you consent to telling me about where the witch Flemeth is hiding.”

 

Saeris cocks her head, an influence of her other form and thinks carefully. What she's being offered is still shackles but she'd hold her own leash. It's not all that she wants and she won't abandon her other plans to destroy her phylactery or stay out of the grasp but...

 

But.

 

_Is there any other you trust?_ Flemeth's words ring in her head. Not fully, but she is fond of Gregoire. How strange it is to view him almost as the fatherly figure she lost but not trust him. And by the end of this Flemeth is likely to be 'dead' at Morrigan's hands, and flee her domicile so giving the location especially if she clears it out first, is not exactly a problem.

 

“Okay.”

 

Gregoire nods. “You of course, also are not to learn blood magic or any other foul ones.”

 

Honesty spurs her to confess, blurting “I can become a dog.”

 

There's a heavy silence before he snorts, the shaking of his head set off by the wry smile. “You know, I'm oddly not surprised..just a dog?”

 

“I came from the dog clan.” Because the last thing Saeris is going to do is explain that the famed Flemeth of the Kocari Wilds told her not to take another shape.

 

“...there's worse things. Do avoid them.” But the Fereldan in Gregoire rears up and with a smile he clears his throat. “Don't suppose you'd let me see?”

 

Suspicious, yet, what is this if not trust at this point? And so with a twist of her powers there is then a large twiceblooded hound upon the chair, paws up on the small desk. It makes the templar laugh and reach over to pat her head. He is careful the plates of his metal gloves do not catch in her fur though and so she tolerates it if snorting out a breath from the inevitability of showing a dog to a Fereldan. It could be worse. Alistair still tries to treat her like she's Barkspawn and the Mabari has a distinctly canine smile of amusement watching her shy away from the contact. She is based on a _wild_ breed after all.

 

“Of course, you're all fluff. Will you consent to sending word of anything alarming you run across, even if your lot deals with the problem so I may investigate later?”

 

Saeris is impressed at how he's forgiving her shapeshifting in the clear light of getting her to help with the rumors he would spend hours sending men out to track down otherwise. Already this is fair, more than fair, and far more than she had expected. Shifting back, and looking befuddled as Gregoire just musses her hair up as though she was either still a hound or a little child once more she nods.

 

“Not all of us fear magic, Saeris. We just fear those of weak hearts and minds who have such powers that are gift and curse both. You proved yourself to me years ago, when you kept silent about the harrowing. When you came forward about Jowan. Don't break this trust, please. It's been..good..to know there's a young mage who deserves it out there instead of just the old ones like Irving and Wynne and myself. Seeing and hearing you following my directives may also help heal those young templar's so they do not start to hate all mages wrongfully, after the...disaster that befell us.”

 

As Saeris watches Ser Gregoire walk away it's a strange feeling in her stomach, like bubbles of ale drank too swiftly.

 

Maybe not all the changes that have come from the Lady's work have been bad, it almost felt like..she could scent the honesty on him. A clean feeling on her tongue, and if so, a skill she shall need to work on honing. She has Zevran in the party, she can make a game of it.

 

When finally she's certain she is alone once more save for the traquil puttering nearby and ignoring her, Saeris pulls out the paper hidden under the desk with a bit of a sticking goo meant to hold pages steady while transcribing them, until she'd been 'checked on' she didn't wish to risk being caught with it out.

 

Three lines are what she cares about and in her own neat handwriting is the notes she's pulled from the records. The location of their phylactery's. It seems there's a cycle of when and where they go that she's worked out from the timing of when each of them had taken their Harrowing. Most common is Denerim or Redcliffe, though there were several entries at Lothering that have now been sent on to a chantry in Highever.

 

_Wynne -Whitespire._

_Surana- Denerim Chantry._

_Saeris- Denerim Chantry._

_Amell- Redcliffe Chantry._

 

Well. They were going to Denerim eventually anyways, weren't they? Now, her best bet is not Zevran, but to see if Leliana would be amicable. It seems she needs to spend more time with her fellow red head.

()()()()()()()()()()

 

Sleep that evening is a matter of setting her head down, so eager is she to behold Valor, perhaps the last time she will do so. For Gregoire asked her to return to the circle not stay when she did, even implied an understanding far beyond any she would have hoped from the man. Yet, Saeris has no guarantee that it is Gregoire who shall always be in charge and the nature of her personality fears the door slamming shut once more, or as the thoughts of her other skin form them, the snap of a trap on her leg.

 

“You have returned. The air around you is different. Were I mortal I would not have been able to recognize you, changed in form as you are.” Came the echoes of Valor's voice. It is a sound Saeris had not realized until that moment she had dearly missed. The way it swirls around her skull and very bones, made up entirely of the Fade as she is here.

 

“Changed in..oh..” As she looks down it is to the paws she knew would be there, so at ease in her other skin now that following Flemeth's command to only dream in it is honestly simpler than taking her own. She doesn't even take shape as a human first anymore. “Yes. I learned to change my skin in the mortal world.”

 

“Have you fought in it?” Asks Valor with the manner of a patient teacher reminding their errant student of the true meaning of a conversation, but the question makes Saeris' tail wag and she thinks nothing of being able to speak in this form. The words fill the Fade as if she was speaking from her vocal cords, what does it matter that instead it is her thoughts? Echoing as if she were another spirit in truth there.

 

“Fought and killed. Helped to bring down a dragon and I ended werewolves trying to slay me in turn. I kept the pelt and trinkets from the first to perish at my jaws, the curse spread within my veins like fire so I sought solace in this shape, able to fight and continue rather than be helpless.”

 

Valor nods, the eyes barely visible under his helm somehow brighter, proud. “Well done. Share the memory.”

 

It is something of a way spirits gossip actually passing a wisp of memory from one to the other. Not entirely unlike what she as a Dreamer Mage can do, but different still. For it is but a shadowy fragment of her memories but Curiosity and Patience taught her this method first, both fairly young yet as conscious spirits go, and the only way they knew to share things. When Valor got a hold of her he helped to refine her technique, calling it crude but passable.

 

Passable to one exacting spirit was more than good enough especially considering how young she is instead of centuries as even Curiosity was when they met.

 

The tiny orb of memory hovers before them, called into Valor's outstretched hand. The only outward signs are the flickers of light he holds as the hues alter, reflecting her emotions at the time. When it is done the memory is spent and gone, the impression of it no longer apart from her and no more diminished for the sharing. No different from telling a tale with many words and hand motions for the living in what it gives to a spirit. Because the spirits have different things they focus on, for Valor he discards much of it and hones in only on the sensations of battle, of pain, of the strategy and surroundings and how she used them. What does a talking tree matter to one who seeks the glory of battle after all?

 

“It needs work.” With no further warning Valor is gone and in his place an immense bear, still ethereal in his hues. “Come now and test yourself against me. It is not only those who roam upon two legs who show Valor after all! We have much to train yourself to know in this one evening. Hold nothing back!”

 

Because she does not believe she will tire, Saeris does not. The fade shapes to a spirit's will and it is only that mortals can not seem to look beyond the limitations they are used to, even Dreamers, that hinders them. Saeris never had a chance to learn that, instead Valor has been her teacher since she was thirteen and trained her as he would another spirit, all he knew to do. So Saeris thinks nothing of having abilities that would be impossible were she in the mortal realm. That she can talk by projecting her thoughts is a matter of course, why shouldn't she be able to call down her storms, to twist and run turning about in the air and vanishing to reappear elsewhere? If she can think it, it can happen. Valor is certainly not holding back, the bear has swords flying at her, chains and whips forming out of the ground to snare at her paws. There are axes that slam into existence and shields to buffet away her spells. His paws are massive and carry the weight of a maul, but Saeris and Valor are both convinced they shall take no damage in this for it is a spar, a testing, not a fight to the death. So when it cuts deep into muscles and bones neither bleed and the damage is gone immediately as they continue. Such is the certainty of Valor and thus Saeris has learned to echo back at him when they spar.

 

It is almost morning when Valor finally rears back, having been many shapes through the evening. A stag, a goat, bear, lion, wyvern, bulls, even smaller ones she would have thought prey and how damaging they can be when controlled by the one who embodies battle's finest moments. There were creatures she has no names for that are massive or small and all equally dangerous in the right application of their given abilities. Saeris does not shift out of her form, sitting patiently, her tail curving out to the side as she cocks her head. Awaiting his verdict.

 

“I am pleased. You intend not to stay, but if at all possible consider visiting when there is cause to sleep in the evenings. I would like to monitor your progress.”

 

“You are my teacher, and I have been honored beyond telling to learn.” Saeris intones, to Valor's pleased chuckle.

 

“There are others like me. I shall graft the knowledge into you when you have finished your current quest. Remember that wherever you go is the realm to a spirit and to pay homage to that caretaker in whatever part of the fade you are in. By your very nature you are more spirit than Fade Walker in how you have learned, do not forget the lessons I have given you. I trained you as I remember the young wild beasts coming into their awareness and I have trained you as I would any who were willing to endure. Remember Valor is not just in battle, it is facing that which you are most afraid of and continuing on regardless. Much as you are doing with the Templars.”

 

Because of course her memory orb had far more than she meant to share, it was part of being so young, she could not edit it well enough yet. Saeris ducked her head down in acknowledgment of his criticism and praise both. “They frighten me with the ability to steal the Fade from my grasp for a time.”

 

“And you could easily end their lives before they could raise a blade. Such is the world be it in or out of the Fade. But Gregoire has his moments of honor, and dignity. I approve of your aiding him, indeed if there are such things to be found as you wander that give you pause there are far worse recourse’s then to report them to a warrior you know will not seek out such for his own selfish endeavors. But enough of this prattle, let me tell you where you went wrong and what you may work to improve.”

()()()()()()()()

 

When morning comes Surana and the others break their fast before setting off with the mages and their templar guards trailing behind. The Warden's group will go slightly ahead to ensure a clear pathway. Surana seems quiet and thoughtful, but he walks closer to Morrigan than before and the witch herself wears a new trinket. The golden chain hanging between her breasts does suit her. She'd half suspected that whom had caught Surana's eye was Leliana, but this makes sense. Surana is one of the sort drawn into danger, that which he is told he cannot have. Saeris has no idea what Morrigan is thinking, but if the witch feels like approaching her will be her own business. It's not as though Saeris has any illusions that the time she shared with the elfin mage was anything other than stolen moments for the sake of the hormones being sated. Something that perhaps she _should_ warn Morrigan, Surana never was much good for.

 

The idea makes Saeris snicker but when the others look, she just waves them off. Barkspawn at her side contently, he's always following her these days since she learned to become a dog. As if she needs 'mothering' when only on two legs.

 

Once they've returned to Redcliffe and split up, Zevran is one of those left behind, as is Leliana. Wynne and Surana, Alistair, and Morrigan just to thumb her nose at the visiting circle mages and templars, have gone to handle the mess with Conner. Sten is off doing whatever he pleases.

 

There's no better time.

 

“Leliana?..what's your view on the phylactery practice?”

 

“The..pardon?” Asks the sister, confused, even Zevran is raising his head from where he was sharpening his already lethal knives.

 

“The Templar's draw blood from an apprentice when they are brought to the circle and store it in a vial that keeps it fresh. After our Harrowing it is moved off location but any time they desire they can hunt down a mage using that vial. It's a form of blood magic that they do not mind. Also, part of why Jowan was able to escape so long. Before being conscripted Surana helped him destroy his..”

 

“But, blood magic is _wrong._ No matter whom uses it. To use something against someone...just for being born the way the Maker made them.” It clearly is not an idea that sits well with the bard and Saeris takes a chance. The way Zevran is looking at her with that ever present smirk he's doubtlessly already figured it out.

 

“Being a Gray Warden doesn't save Surana from that. Nor does being a healer save Wynne, and the idea of someone having a way to leash me is terrifying...”

 

“There is one of these here, no?” Zevran flips his smaller knife handle over tip along his fingers. “And you would like our amazing skills to help find and destroy it? It is why you would bring up such a topic after all.”

 

“Yes. That of one of our dearest friends. Mine and Surana's, they're in Denerim..”

 

“We'll help you.” Leliana's hand is on Saeris' shoulder and the bard's smile is soft and gentle. “No one should live in fear, and what you are doing is the Maker's work. I will gladly aid you with this my friend.”

 

Saeris feels her hand clasping over Leliana's, the warmth in her gaze making Saeris smile back. “I do no think I deserve to be called your friend yet, but I'd like to earn that.”

 

“We simply choose to give it so best just live with that. Not good to die before we finish this mess.” Zevran interjects cheerfully before he slips a hand around both women. “Now, let us go find some blood to spill? In an admittedly less lethal way than I am used to. Ah, the things I do for gorgeous women..”

()()()()()()()()()()

 

Between the bard and the assasin the plan is made, and pulled off easily. Back outside the chantry the fat little bottle crashes to the ground and the feeling of the magic that kept it fresh shatters.

 

“Such a little thing, to inspire such fear.” Zevran states but he has a frown on his face. “Had the crows such a method I would stop at nothing to try and remove it as well, it is a pity we cannot just ruin them all but the less that is handled in destruction the better the hiding of the deed.”

 

“Yes.” Leliana agrees before she shakes her head. “Your footsteps were so _loud_ Saeris, I think perhaps I should teach you a few tricks.”

 

It is familiar, the offering to train, to learn and Saeris smiles broadly at them both, catching them aback it seems. “Anything you are willing, I shall try.”

 

“Well your build is wrong for a rogue, but you at least move when casting instead of just standing still. And I have seen you slash out with that dagger when an opponent was too close, though now you use teeth instead..” Leliana pauses. “You shouldn't get too reliant on that, there will be times and places you cannot have that known.”

 

Someone really should have warned Saeris that a former Orlesian bard who took the task of protecting her friends seriously was the more dangerous one out of the two rogues. Zevran, amused, held his tongue. It would only provide him entertainment after all.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Anyone have any interest in my attempting to draw Saeris? Solas shows up in this one and proceeds to take over a lot of the Fade. And I'm still way too entertained Saeris has no idea that Flemeth is _more_. In that same vein she's learned deception without knowing Flemeth taught her so well..

)_)_)_)_)_)_)_)_)_

 

“Step, again. Now strike.” Leliana is calling out as she guides Saeris through the motions, Zevran watching nearby. Both of the red heads are stripped only to tunics and pair of leggings that belong to Leliana who fortunately had a spare that fit Saeris, and Zevran is most appreciative of the view even as he calls out suggestions.

 

“She is still looking around too much. I think a blindfold, no?”

 

“Maybe..” Leliana agrees thoughtfully.

 

“looking around too much?” Saeris asks but to the approving eyes of the two rogues she has not ceased the routine she has been working on as the others talk, slipping back into the same sequence once more.

 

“You've been trained by a most exacting teacher.” Zevran says finally. “It is evident. Ah but the blindfold is to teach you to use your other senses, it is how rogues know when and where to dodge. Our eyes are often the first to be tricked or what if you are in the dark?”

 

“Oh..” Saeris pauses only for a moment and closes her eyes, taking a breath before slowly, much more shakily, starting her movements again. They are clumsier and going wide but no one corrects her. Instead the bard and assassin watch, eyes narrowed. There's a flaring to Saeris's nostrils before she tilts her head, one way, and then the other. This time her mouth parts, visibly tasting the air and her bare toes move. It is peculiar for them to witness but astounding as well. They are not mages, but they have seen Saeris shift to her twiceblooded form and live in it often enough to recognize the soft and subtle transition to her movements.

 

“Again.” Leliana speaks as she sees a steadiness to the mage's body, a comfortable stillness in how she is positioned. This time the motions are not so clumsy and wild, still the awkward ones of ways she is not used to moving but there is a far greater awareness to her. Leliana slips towards her and this time with her eyes still closed Saeris moves away, in the correct direction. “Much better.” Leliana agrees. “What gave me away?” For she knows it was not her footsteps, silent as they were here on the churned earth. They are dirtied to their ankles from moving around so often.

 

“Your perfume. You smell like those Andraste's grace flowers you are so fond of.” Saeris responds, still moving, if no longer in the patterns.

 

“Anything else?”

 

It is much to their amusement that Saeris sweeps her tongue out to lick her lips, a more elegant -and unintentionally seductive movement- than the panting her canine form would do. “There's a taste to the air about you. I don't know how to describe it except I know in my other skin as Leliana.”

 

“Scent has a taste in that form?” Zevran asks, highly curious if so what they would all smell and taste like. The innuendo longs to be loosened into the air but he holds back, if only because these are areas he has come to learn that often go over the Chasind mage's head. She is not embarassed by them either which is a pleasant change, as Surana and Alistair so often are. Wynne he has learned can provide a lot more new material he has never heard of and he dares not venture there with Leliana. There is a pain to her when she hears some of his words that he will not hurt her with.

 

“Everything is scent and it rolls over.” She opens her eyes as Leliana and Zevran laugh at her unintentionally hilarious comment. “Oh yes, laugh it up. But truly, the taste and scent of iron is one we know, right? It's like that.”

 

“Ugh then some of the things we've been killing?” Leliana shivers and Saeris shrugs.

 

“It's bad when I'm here, but if I am furred? I don't know. The senses are stronger but the ways of thinking are a little different.” More like when she's in the Fade if she is to be honest but that is not something she can discuss with any save Flemeth, and the witch is so near yet so far. Knowing that any day now Morrigan must be ready to approach the others with ending her mother's life is itching at Saeris who longs to see the ancient crone once more. For only sentimental reasons though, Flemeth would not approve and if the old witch of the wild's hadn't been planning on Saeris and Morrigan returning to loot and then at least Saeris informing the Templars to lay a false trail for a time?

 

Flemeth thought of everything. Her own sentiments were not welcomed there though they may be appreciated, not at the expense of progressing her own missions.

 

“You're distracted.” Leliana pointed out and there was something to the gentle way the former lay sister had that let Saeris speak frankly.

 

“The visit to the tower has me unsettled. As if I am caught between two points in my path and I'm not hesitating, perhaps I should be, but the ...awareness..of the change is alarming.”

 

“I think, we can understand that.” Zevran said without much of his usual humor, Leliana smiling in agreement. Ever so slightly, the three shared a quiet moment. Indeed, they had each come from strange and diverse backgrounds, in a sense turning away from them entirely whilst keeping that which they wanted from them.

 

“Good company then.”Leliana chuckled. “Now, lets run through your forms again eyes open but I'll call out when to shut them...”

 

Obediently Saeris moved into her stance. The motions they were teaching her flowed directly from her staff work, emphasized movement over stagnant positions and if anything seemed to let her draw out motions with her knife -one which Zevran had quietly swapped for a longer and certainly more lethal one- after teaching her how to hold the slightly different blade. Once they knew she could transition they had tentatively brought up teaching her only knife and hand to hand work, thinking she would be unwilling to be without her staff as a focus. Saeris had scowled.

 

“I'll not have it all the time if the fight goes badly, I'd prefer not to be vulnerable. Casting is hard and clumsy without a weapon, but it can be done. I'll just need practice.” It was a sentiment the other two could understand into their very cores and so Leliana sat with her often, awaiting the group that more and more was Surana, Wynne, Morrigan, and Alistair as they ran fools errands. It clearly troubled Sten but since those staying behind were working on becoming better warriors the large qunari held his tongue around them and simply resumed his own practice work. Indeed, if anything it appeared they had greater merit in their working to better their lethality than the number of tasks that Surana was commanding to bring in gold and supplies. Not that the large man complained when Surana paid for new gear for Sten from Bodhan's stores.

 

Eventually Sten confronted Saeris when she was alone, butchering the deer she had brought down in her canine form, not really minding that the traces of blood were still on her lips in a smear of ichor and kohl where her face paint had been disturbed, the evidence on her sleeve.

 

“You are a Saarebas.” Sten said, arms crossed and looming over her. Slowly Saeris looked up at him. Her instincts were screaming that she was not in danger yet, but could be.

 

“What is that?”

 

“It means, dangerous thing.”

 

“Thing?”

 

“A tool. Were you among the Qunari your tongue would be cut out, your lips sewn shut and your eyes blinded. You would be leashed by one who knew how to control you.”

 

Far from being alarmed Saeris breathed out, sitting on her haunches. The thought to argue she was neither thing nor dangerous did not fit with that she was until a moment ago elbow deep in the guts of her prey that she brought down with her jaws and regularly summoned spells that caused great swaths of destruction.

 

“I see. It is not so different. I _am_ leashed.” And it was the truth though she had been given the chance to hold it in her own hands. “They have my blood, and my oath. The closest that I have to a father is Ser Gregoire whom you met in the Circle of Magi. He has given me strict instructions, rules, and requests I am to follow even as I join on this quest.”

 

“You intend to obey?” Sten's voice was as stoic as ever but since his arms were crossed and not swinging a weapon at her she felt at ease telling the truth. The scent that coated Sten was different from human or elf, it was a wild thing, like smothered flames, ashes ready to spark into a blaze. A musk that told her he was no less dangerous than the dragon they had fought.

 

“To a point. Where he gave me leeway was not meant to loosen me entirely but knowing that it made me more willing to follow the parts he valued.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“If we find places that alarm me, scenes he would send his men to I shall send word. There is a dangerous witch in the Kocari wilds, Morrigan's mother, and when I next send a missive I will be telling him of that location. If we run into mages I think are dangerous he will know where. I am never to learn certain magics..need I go on?”

 

Sten nodded slowly. “I met him. He is a fine warrior. Will you not run from him? Become apostate?”

 

“As long as Gregoire is the one running the templars at the circle I will listen.” And it was the truth slipped from her lips before she had another thought. She sighed then. “He did not wish me to see Jowan, the blood mage back in Redcliffe, when he was sentenced and taken back. The man was my dear friend for years but we do not know exactly what blood mages can do. Ser Gregoire asked me to stay away out of concern for my safety, I could not refuse him that.”

 

“You did not answer the question.”

 

“I will have to test any replacement that comes, to ensure I am willing to follow them. Too many are corrupt or weak and hide behind an abuse of their powers.”

 

“Then perhaps you are not so much Saarebas as it is the dog in you has taken over your mind. You do know something of loyalty.”

 

“Maybe. Would it surprise you that I think of the other form as much mine as this?”

 

“I can accept that. You are just a dog who becomes human and uses magic. You are leashed. I will not need to find a way to end you in battle.”

 

Saeris could do nothing but blink as Sten then turned and walked away. The man was baffling. Though as she returned to her task the mage could not help but wonder. The qunari was observant, spoke honestly and without any care to how one would take it. A dog who becomes human and could use magic, or better, how much..

 

How much had her early exposure to the spirits who trained her, to Valor, made her more that way? Was that perhaps what Flemeth was pushing her towards insisting she dream as her other self? Could a mage, even a dreamer, become more akin to the spirits than not? It is a terrifying thought and makes her tremble, cutting her hand on the blade she was using to butcher the deer. With a moments work she has the slash healed and pauses.

 

If it is possible, the damage is already done. She already thinks and acts in ways she may not have before her being afflicted with the werewolf curse and the gifts of the Lady. Before that her upbringing was so scattered, so varied, her mentors none of which most would have sought out. Much as she had told Leliana and Zevran days before she is aware of the changes happening just outside of her peripheral vision, that the world is rapidly reforming into something she is not even certain she fits into anymore. If ever she did.

 

There has to Flemeth's knowledge, never been an elfblooded human who kept traits of their heritage from the People. She's a dreamer who learned to hide as a lesser spirit, trained by spirits to not think and move through the fade as a dreamer or a mage at all but as one of them. She's been cursed and blessed both by a forest entity and the Witch of the Wilds.

 

Just for a moment Saeris permits herself to feel loss. Of what could have been. The ideas of sneaking back amongst Dalish or Chasind and losing herself to just a simple life among either group though only glimmers for a moment, a wil'o'wisp soon lost to the clarity of dawn. It would never be enough for her now. Not when she'd tasted freedom and learned to fight among so many strangers. Not when there was all of Thedas and the other half of it, mirrored in the Fade, awaiting her explorations. Licking her lips and tasting kohl and blood Saeris throws her head back and laughs.

 

Flemeth called her correctly. She'd be the Storm Bringer because she'd never feel at ease safe upon the shore.

 

When she steps back into camp that evening her eyes are bright and her smile sharp, thrown into a more grim expression with the smudges of black and dried blood on her face, the meat in the oil sack just for that purpose being set upon the fire. Everyone there does not bother to hide their amusement as Saeris growls and snuffles at Barkspawn who soon takes off into the brush, to go claim the remnants of the kill before the scavengers do. It has at this point, not become so unusual.

 

“I'm thinking we head to Denerim next.” Surana mentions, his hair falling in his eyes and with an annoyed snort he's tugging it back into a tail once more.

 

“Why would we want to go there? It's just going to be full of people and loud.” Morrigan says. But across the fire Surana locks eyes with Saeris and she nods. There's only a moment that Saeris feels yellow eyes from her fellow shapechanger boring into her skin before Surana speaks up.

 

“Our phylacteries are in the Denerim Chantry.”

 

Not even Alistair protests the course of action they are setting up now. Though Zevran brings up the chance they will have to face crows, Leliana has moved to sit beside her, Zevran on her other side and it is to Saeris's bemusement she realizes the rogues are being protective. Then again, her obliviousness often had her teased -and the massive blow up from Surana- so perhaps she is closer to the bard and assassin than she had given herself credit for? Judging by the comfort they are showing in critiquing her on their latest skirmish with bandits as they traveled, that is the case.

 

Morrigan's gaze is heavy and when Saeris looks up later, taking first watch with Leliana, she realizes it is because the dark haired apostate is luring Surana into her tent. Painfully aware that even those already in their tents, and certainly the red headed lay sister beside her, are watching her move it only amuses Saeris to wave to Morrigan with a grin. Well, she didn't get a chance to warn her fellow Witch of the Wilds about Surana's lack of skill but if anyone can force the psychokinetic mage into doing as they like it is Morrigan.

 

The faint pleased smile is there and gone before anyone can claim later they saw it, for all the only two looking at Morrigan are herself and Leliana, but Saeris knows. It is relief that this will not strain their already once more peculiar friendship.

 

“That's generous of you. You were lovers with him, were you not?” Leliana asks, gazing into the fire as they wait, weapons at their side just in case.

 

“In the tower? It was honestly just to relieve the urges of our bodies. Nothing more. A tumble between friends..well, rutting against the nearest wall hidden among the books really. Rarely satisfying for me though he seemed always much happier after.”

 

“Oh!” Leliana is giggling and Saeris grins at the coquettish appearance. “Oh dear..please tell me you at least were able to ah, finish?”

 

“At times.” Usually only if she'd been newly awakened, sometimes he'd sneak into her room for she didn't have a dorm with the others long, though how they hid that it was because she'd passed her harrowing Saeris never bothered to ask, likely spun a tale about her work with the tranquil which tended to bother everyone else too much too think on. That it was only when the lingering traces of the Fade clung to her senses that Surana's quick fumbling had not left her more wound up than otherwise had never really sunk in before.

 

“Morrigan has a lot to train then.” Leliana sighs, but her eyes are dancing. “It's been a long time for me, but I remember many nights pursuing what we called in Orlais 'la petite mort' the little death.”

 

“La petite mort...” Saeris rolled the words on her tongue. “It sounds..so very exotic, and yet not in the filthy way that Zevran says things. Almost..”

 

“Poetic?”

 

“Yes. Teach me?”

 

“Ah...” And Leliana's body language is surprised. “I admire you greatly and consider you a friend but I view you more as perhaps a little sister, Saeris not..”

 

“I meant..” But Saeris finds herself laughing then, and smiles, chuffing her amusement at one point before scowling at the sound that has escaped her. Though the clearly canine sound has now set off Leliana into her own soft laughs so she cannot be too upset. “Orlais.”

 

“Orlesian.”

 

“That.”

 

“You..you wish to know it?”

 

“It is part of you, and beautiful. You're my friend aren't you now? And..besides then we can say things behind the backs of everyone else!”

 

“Scandalous!” Leliana giggles but their faces are close and eyes shining. That is when Leliana rests her forehead against Saeris's own and the elfblooded human feels herself basking in comfort she hadn't known since..since her mother. A woman she misses and will be looking for the moment this Blight is over. Little sister Leliana had called her. She...

 

“How do I call you elder sister?” Because she's missed having a clan and never was a part of Clan Lavellan, she was never able to have siblings, perhaps if her father's first wife and child had lived or maybe she herself would have never come to be. But Leliana whom would never have been her choice except that the faith driven former bard was whom she needed to free herself, and her friends from their blood forged chains. Some how since that day, when Leliana stepped up to help tell the Dalish what she wanted in an outfit, which should be completed by now for certain, and then again in aiding her at Redcliffe's chantry. Helping her with her fighting, she's come to trust Leliana as much as Morrigan, but in a softer way. Morrigan will still sacrifice others and herself for a plan but Leliana?

 

Leliana has a heart so large that when she speaks of her faith others shy away because their own hearts are too small to understand how she wishes just to share what has brought herself comfort, to give of herself in every way she can. It's comforting once you realize her lectures on the Maker and Andraste are not to force a new conversion but to try and share what has brought her joy because she wishes others to have the same.

 

“Sourer ainée” Comes the soft voice of Leliana and then there's the scent of tears in the air, not that they are shed and something soft and warm seems to shimmer around the two girls. There's a magic happening, but it is so subtle, so soft, that Saeris realizes she will need to seek answers that evening when it is her turn to sleep. Perhaps a spirit lingers in this area, she has no idea what one controls this part of the Fade overlapping the waking world.

 

“Sourer Aime.”

 

“Ainée.” Leliana corrects her but there's a hand lacing through her own hesitantly. When Saeris finds herself squeezing it back, Leliana speaks up again. “Ma Sourer ainée means my eldest sister..”

 

“Ma sourer ainée.”

 

“Oui.”

 

The watch passes with simple words being taught, and the teasing as she learns that la chienne means bitch and dog both and is now her nickname from Leliana showing that the bard does have a wicked sense of humor. Because it is 'essential' Leliana coaches her through various curse words and they neglect to waken Sten for his watch until hours into it. The Qunari glares but mutters something about women and their pets as he goes to take his post. Leliana retires to her own tent and bed roll, but for some time now Saeris has taken to just leaving her pack with Surana or Wynne and sleeping in her canine form. It becomes just the right temperature and the ground is never too hard in that way.

 

()()()()()()()()()

 

_Slipping into the Fade is as easy as breathing and just as natural for her. Saeris just closes her eyes and in a twist not so unlike swapping her form these days she finds the comforting green hue around her. The echos, the formless void that shifts and alters for reality. As Saeris does not expect to find anything, not even ground, she remains in that curious not-there state that most only pass through on their way into dreams. The only truth Saeris acknowledges in this moment is her own form, but not it's limitations. What need has she to breathe even in a place that needs not air to exist? Her fur reflects the multiple orbs of curious wisps that flicker about, their colors a rainbow of hues as she playfully ripples the Fade in their direction with a thought, body language expressing her joy at the idea of play. Yet she lifts herself from the forward bow like posture as her ears flicker forward. First, she must find the spirit whose domain this is and pay her respects._

 

_The very idea summons them of course, and before long her ears are pricked forward as she sits, tongue lolling out as the glowing form before her coalesces into a vaguely humanoid shape. Around them the Fade sculpts itself into curving pathways and hills made of strange forms. Tiny speckles of mosiac like patterns dot the air in spirals that must be the framework to hold up the various dream structures that would be created here. Saeris does not fixate upon them, not wishing to call them into being._

 

“ _Be welcome visitor. I see you are here in the physical as well. I have many coming and resting in this place to feed into the crafting of my home, will you then take from or add to my domain?” It is not asked unkindly but merely curious. For living souls add to a spirits domain by providing new material that it uses to help craft dreamscapes and the numerous wisps create their woven tapestries by exploring their memories. Much as she has shared with Valor in her clumsy fashion so too are these young wisps awkward and often heavy handed. When demons latch on as well it helps twist into nightmares of a more dangerous sort but generally it is all the work of curious spirits, who wonder about the waking realm. As a Dreamer her very existence can rip apart all the hard work into the 'building' of a location that a spirit has crafted though they rarely mind. After all a Dreamer knows how things should fit together being of the waking realm. But Saeris has not been wandering as a dreamer, she wanders as Valor taught her, as if she truly was one of the wild spirits that the Chasind called 'Beloved of the Gods' or Totems. A transient guest._

 

“ _I am willing to aid, I am just curious.” Saeris replies instead, her tail thudding and the rippling of light around the spirit guardian is like laughter. She is not the first of the 'totem spirits' of the Chasind to be riding a living being and be of the fade as well, lesser spirits do so far more often than most realize outside of the Chasind and Rivaini, even the mages, because they are of such little notice. The Dalish themselves think nothing of seeing a glimpse of a rare animal that vanishes in the woods before a hunter can catch it, calling it a messenger of one of their pantheon. Saeris knew many of them before she realized it was not common and so playing up to Flemeth's advice and Valor's teachings is simple._

 

_Indeed they have prepared her well._

 

“ _Who are you, friend?” Asks the spirit and it is customary, the host wishing to know the name and then gifting their own. Taking in before sanctuary is granted for the time. Even mortals do this though they've created far too much pomp and ceremony to the fact._

 

“ _Twiceblooded.”_

 

“ _The mortals refer to me as 'The camp at the Green hill'.” The spirit answers in a way that if you are accustomed to their thinking makes perfect sense. For this is not a spirit of an emotion, but likely grown from many coming and going near this place, regarding it and the nearby stream and lush grassy area as a comfort after the Hinterlands or the steep cliffs near Redcliffe, the imposing Brecilian forest that looms nearby. Letting the spirit grow in strength and intelligence with every soul that slept there and found comfort. A protective entity that sought to ensure the happiness and peace of it's guests. Her companions would have wonderful dreams that evening which in turn would help empower the glowing form across the way. A symbiosis that was sheer perfection when it worked._

 

“ _A fine name.” Saeris answers and it is. It names this spirit, it's location, as clearly as her nature is in Twiceblooded. What they_ are _is something open and obvious without subterfuge. Power lays within titles and all those years ago when Flemeth gifted her another and cautioned Morrigan and Saeris sitting by her knees to always be careful with their own has served her well. “Where may I aid?”_

 

“ _I've a visitor who requires much attention. Could you perhaps amuse them while I attend to the mortals? The wisps are new here yet barely four centuries as they count the years.” Though said gently it is not truly a request and a strand of power dances out from the spirit to sink into Saeris's muzzle letting her get a feel for where the visitor is. Much like her it is common for spirits to meet up and share their tales in memories and talks. Because the Fade shapes to what one pictures Saeris simply imagines herself before the clear sensations of this other self visiting the Spirit in charge of the location. The power is strong and swift like the current deep below a river, deceptive in it's quiet nature. So much more than five senses is involved when in the Fade and open to the ideas, and so with a yawn and a shake of her fur Saeris reforms from the atoms of the Fade before the stranger._

 

_They're apparently an elf or perhaps once were and now are dead, garbed richly and with the sides of their head shaven and long locks though this part of the Fade is dark. Not in the sense of a lack of light but in a heavy sensation of too much emotion and thought and aged wisdom. A being to respect._

 

“ _Well, now who may you be?” Comes the voice and it flows only from one direction as his mouth moves. A rich timber that while entirely pleasant to_ hear _betrays the nature. This is a mortal or at least once was and Saeris is greatly thankful for her mentors. Her own voice echoes everywhere and no where when she responds, the lightness that comes with her and her nature telling much about her though not that she too has a mortal form, just her youth and inexperience._

 

“ _Twiceblooded. The camp at the Green Hill asked me to come whilst it tends to mortals and dreams with the young wisps.”_

 

“ _So I am sent an even younger spirit?” But the rich voice is amused as he laughs, and it is so_ strange _to see someone do that in the Fade! Saeris tilts her head one side and feels her ears flicker her confusion seeing him breathe and it makes him laugh more._

 

“ _Not used to mortals are you, Twiceblooded? Where do you hail from?”_

_()()()()()()()()()()()()_

 

_Solas finds himself pleased at the choice of distraction that the local spirit has sent. He is still sleeping, far off from waking yet but at least he may now cast his consciousness much further than before. It wears him down to do so but he simply has to have something new to witness. Indeed it was something he had never considered, that in Uthenera perhaps they would run out of things to dream of unable to seek out new locations when all the history of a place had been observed. He's found that locations with hospitable guardians however are willing to share some of their energies and it allows him to go further and further from where his body lays asleep without depleting his magical stores yet further._

 

_Though he resides in Uthenera it is a means to an end, he is by no means prepared to let loose his ties to the mortal realm and pass on solely into the Fade yet. There is too much to do still. Too much to see._

 

_It may be one of the youngest spirits he has witnessed in aeons, at least while being aware and intelligent. What manner of creature may this one turn into in time? The spirit is a dog, though it draws to mind his own preferred wolf form it has a few variations in body that tell it's nature. The utter youth and joy that seems to trail behind it, all but visible in little wisps of thoughts and emotions flickering in tiny sparks of wisp memories too tiny to even attempt to catch on a finger are as telling as a child running about with a treasured toy. This is but an infant in spirit form, but it can already amass a solid appearance and speak, far cry from the true wisps._

 

“ _I am from the Chasind, in the Kocari wilds.” The named Twiceblooded creature says and the way it echoes in the Fade leaks out emotions. Shameless again as a confident little toddler that has no reason to feel it should not be so honest. It is something about spirits that Solas has always treasured. They do not need to wrap everything in intrigue. As enjoyable as the games of court can be there is something all but sacred in the complete abandonment of such behavior._

 

“ _Chasind?”_

 

“ _The people of this land often divide what they call each other though they are all from the same litter once. Chasind became Fereldan and they started to wear too many layers and forget the truth in the wind and waters.” There are scents that come with those thoughts, ones even Solas can pick up on. The memory of wind in fur and cold water tasting of minerals and earth against a tongue in a longer mouth, one with teeth and muzzle as it laps at the surface._

 

“ _The chasind made you then..” Solas hums as he thinks on it. Humans. Humans managed to create a spirit this capable is not entirely unexpected but it does surprise him._

 

“ _In part.” The hound shifts and though Solas has formed a chair to rest in and grounds that feel familiar in their opulent carvings and soft lights around the hound does not acknowledge them so much as just yawn and pull it's legs up, seeming to hover in the air. There's no compulsion to lay lower and seem to be on the ground, only amusing Solas more. “There have been many who helped, shape and teach and guide and still do. Mortals come in so many hides and furs and tempers.” There is amusement and a sly look to the positioning of it's head and ears that draws yet another laugh from Solas. It feels wonderful to laugh once more and the ever present pains and memories that have dampened his time enjoying the fade seem to be slipping further._

 

“ _Yes. Even the immortals tend to do so.”_

 

“ _Do they?” Twiceblooded rolls over onto it's side, still in mid air but staying at eye level as far away as it is. “I've never met a mortal immortal. Ha! That is a twist for the words! Like running a hare round n round!”_

 

“ _Once all the lands here were lived on only by mortals who lived for thousands upon thousands of years and perished only in battle or if they sought to sleep endlessly; with the spirits often called by their side. There was no veil then, though the Fade was still far more accessible to the waking ones when they slept.” Solas said, eager to share what he knew to a young spirit that had never known such a time._

 

“ _Oh, do tell? No. Wait. I mean, I am supposed to amuse you...” And the tuck of the tail, only possible because of that strange position the spirit was in and the way it's ears went down ashamed made Solas rush to reassure it. Clearly it had only ever been taught to obey and listen when another was speaking, to finish any task set, who had taught it until now? Surely with it's coherence it had not been left to drift aimlessly!_

 

“ _I am happy to share. You are most amusing..” And the flare of temper was another sign of this spirits potential. Common ones did not act in such ways they remained one dimensional. Even his dearest friend Wisdom from his own youth rarely could show anything but it's nature no matter the situation._

 

“ _Amusing?”_

 

“ _You react.”_

 

_A head tilted, before the spirit vanished and reformed, sitting on the floor now and scratching at it's ear. “The Chasind are passionate people. Proud. Strong. They adapt, they strike back, they lay in wait to bite. They do not just roll over and show their throat.”_

 

“ _Yet you also have shown humility.”_

 

“ _I have shown respect for The Guardian and the task it gave me.”_

 

“ _Then my own feelings do not matter?”_

 

“ _You do not send them out.”_

 

_Solas paused, it had never really been pointed out to him but then he had been around spirits generally that were thousands of years old or had yet to realize that dreamer's- as rare as they were- did not project as spirits did. “The wisps must delve into the thoughts of the sleeping ones, it is the same. Mortals, even Immortal ones, do not 'project' as you do.”_

 

_Twiceblooded reared back, the form fluctuating in it's startlement and then settling, though it seemed if anything, larger, than before. Most curiously. “It must be awfully lonely.”_

 

“ _Lonely?”_

 

“ _Not sharing.”_

 

“ _That is what words are for. And surroundings. Shall I show you something?” Solas asked, wondering what the young spirit would ask to see. But once more it showed it's nature and didn't seem interested._

 

“ _I see many places as I roam.”_

 

“ _You are a living spirit? A..what was that term..”_

 

“ _A totem?” Twiceblooded asked with a lolling of it's tongue, a laugh in canine form._

 

“ _Indeed. You slip from one half of the veil to the other then?”_

 

“ _They are both real to me.” It agreed and Solas shook his head. On one hand he envied it, on the other it must get terribly confused._

 

“ _Have you any directive? A drive?”_

 

“ _I'm not that young!” Twiceblooded bristles and the sheer annoyance in it's echoing tones make Solas laugh almost uncontrollably. It is so much like a petulant youth in it's aggrieved sound._

 

“ _Forgive me but you've no clear distinction, whom trained you?”_

 

_Clearly he has thrown the spirit for another loop as it settles though the form is still a little larger. “Curiosity found me, Patience tempered me, Valor took me under it's tutelage when the other two no longer could.”_

 

_A strange combination. “And what of your nature?”_

 

“ _I was thus from the start though it took me a while to figure out how to_ be _.” Twiceblooded answers honestly and Solas just nods. Perhaps he could offer to help this spirit. Certainly it has the potential in a few centuries to be the start of something wondrous. There is freedom and pride, joy and honesty in this spirit and these are all traits Solas has treasured over the years._

 

“ _Are you free?”_

 

“ _I am following a group of mortals.”_

 

“ _Be careful!” Solas cautions, worried now for this bright young soul. “If they caught you..”_

 

“ _They know. They think me something like a Mabari they have. The Mabari seems to think I need to be taught to be a dog.” There's an audible sniff and feeling of disdain that ripples from it's fur in a sharp pattern and Solas feels his lips tug into a smirk._

 

“ _You hide in plain sight, do you? You certain you are not a cat or a fox?” Solas teases gently, delighting in the interaction with this bright soul._

 

_The sheer disgust that disrupts the physical appearance of the spirit before it reforms is as much a tell as if it had started to gag and give him an affronted look that simply cannot happen with it's features._

 

“ _You needn't insult me.” Twiceblooded sniffs. “Yet you have not even granted your name.”_

 

_Solas finds himself embarassed and bows from his seat, properly chastised by a youngling. Such a strange evening, and the fact that this Twiceblooded clearly does not know how rare and dangerous he is as a dreamer mage to it's existance means there is none of the hesitant reverence or the fawning behaviors either. It keeps him from gifting the title most would know him as, there is no reason to need explain the complex history behind it._

 

“ _I am Solas.”_

 

“ _Solace?” The hound twists it's tail in a circle, amused now. “Comfort? You do not seem a being of comfort. One of laughter and jests maybe..”_

 

“ _Solas. It's Elvhen.” He replies though the denial of his being a creature of merriment never comes from his lips which are indeed, once more letting out a chuckle at the brash behavior of his companion. “It means Pride.”_

 

“ _Pride is good.” The hound asserts and then it makes the strangest expression that ripples along it's fur, sending off little sparks as if something had just yanked it's tail before it vanishes entirely. Alarm fills him and swiftly he calls on the spirit whose realm he is visiting._

 

“ _The young Twiceblooded, what happened to it?”_

 

_The guardian spirit hovers softly. “It's companions have awakened, night has passed into dawn and they stir.”_

 

“ _It is all right?”_

 

“ _Yes.” As an answer a faint spiral of light memory hovers and Solas grasps it._

 

_He sees the hand of a human in armor lowering as if to pet the fur -so much duller in hue outside the Fade- of Twiceblooded. Before the hand is even close enough to make contact the eyes snap open, a brilliant citrine that are wide awake and teeth clamp tight upon the man's glove making him yelp. To his credit though the human just sulks at the hound._

 

Oh come on, not even once? _The man sighs but Twiceblooded releases his hand and stands, shaking out it's fur before giving a dismissive snort._

 

She isn't really just a dog you dolt. _Another human woman says, sneering. Her wild appearance is cultured at the same time and then she is gazing at the hound in amusement._ You should have drawn blood, but all the same not a bad way to start the morn.

 

_Nearby an older woman, clearly a mage from her staff is spooning out porridge for the strange group of mortals. Diverse and varied indeed but there is no hesitation to place the bowl down for the large short haired bulkier breed and the elegant form of Twiceblooded both. A soft here you are dear and a sneaking handful of berries added to the one for Twiceblooded is rewarded with a wagging of the tail. That the hound is clearly more than just a dog is easily accepted and not at all with suspicion. Solas is startled as the memory ends but smiles. At least his newest acquaintance is traveling with mortals who appreciate it for what it is._

()()()()()()()()()()

 

Because Solas never asked for information about the spirit besides what he had witnessed, it did not occur to the guardian entity to reveal when shortly after the meal was done how the hound had returned to being a woman, gathering the bowls to go wash them nearby.

 

Surana grinned at them from where he and Alistair were consulting a map as the last of the gear was once again stowed and packed. “Onward to Denerim.”

 

Freedom was close enough now that Saeris felt it against her throat, a collar being loosened. In Denerim's chantry they'd find their phylacteries.

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Denerim was another of those strange places where somehow Surana was pulled off into many side jobs and errands. It was as if being a Gray Warden managed to alert everyone with any half baked idea that someone would be willing to help complete it. Perhaps it went along with the dark spawn blood?Since Alistair had a few things to accomplish there, and Zevran a few leads, they left with Wynne to handle them. Considering the lot was now finally realizing they needed healing since Zevran's over stated abilities with locks and traps almost was set off by Alistair's peculiar abilities to find them? Of course that was before you took in Surana's tendencies to answer ever situation by flinging off fireballs or the newer force magics he'd discovered when speaking with Irving back in the tower.

 

Sten went off and vanished leaving the rest to just hope he wouldn't either terrorize the local bakery too much or kill someone. Honestly, with the qunari's found addiction to cookies it was not entirely off the wall to suspect he may just sit there and glower as they fed him tray after tray of sweets. At least he had the coin for it. Morrigan gave a long suffering sigh before she went shopping, with a quirk to her lips that displayed she was hardly against the task and Barkspawn trailing after the witch for protection. Yellow eyes had glared at Saeris, knowing that the Twiceblooded had insisted Morrigan not go alone and chuffed as much along with body language so the Mabari would guard her fellow Witch of the Wilds. Morrigan knew a great deal, but she was still an _obvious_ apostate.

 

It left Leliana and Saeris alone.

 

“You know those assassins that came after me..would you mind terribly helping me with the situation?” Leliana asked softly. Saeris shook her head.

 

“You're helping me stay free. I'd be glad to return the favor ainée.”

 

“Thank you. I meant to bring it up to Surana, but he has so many tasks already upon his shoulders.” Leliana smiled at her, but there was a shiver to the woman's shoulder's, and the slightly older red head had already shared with them all her past as a bard, and her former mentor's betrayal. If there were more details shared quietly when helping to train Saeris's dexterity alone, they were ones that the copper haired mage would keep to herself.

 

“Where do we begin?”

 

“With the chantry. I will feel better knowing they cannot track you down.” Leliana once more showed her mettle, pushing aside concerns for her own safety and confronting the woman who had built up and then destroyed her life. In the former bard's mind her friend's safety was paramount. “Now, I still have my former attire as a lay sister, but you cannot pass as one easily. Though it has been a while there were times some of the other sisters would help escort women to various chantry's who were considering offering their dedication, perhaps.”

 

“If I 'cleaned up' would I pass as a commoner you think?”

 

“It is..yes. Yes that would do.” A few coins at an inn got them a room where Saeris set to washing off her face paint and removing the braids and trinkets from her hair. Leliana slipped away, coming back with a faded serviceable dress of some color that once may have been yellow but now an indiscriminate beige. With her help they managed to twist her hair into a properly dowdy low bun though Leliana chuckled. “There is not much we can do about the shade. Red hair is always noticed and if you wore a cowl it would scream more old matron which you do not look. Cannot be helped.” They rolled up their gear and placed it in their packs which would go with them, a wandering pilgrim being guided by a lay sister was not so unlikely a sight though with the current turmoil facing Thedas it was a little out there. Still, if only to use it as lending credence to why a woman may suddenly feel the need to seek assurance in the Maker's work it was believable. It helped that from her days in the circle spending time with a few of the Templar's, and the fact that attendance in the small chapel there was considered rather mandatory, Saeris and Surana both would be familiar with the chant. Far more than they desired.

 

If anything, it was Leliana who was the first example of someone with faith that did not feel forced upon her as she showed it. Even Gregoire had often made Saeris feel he was trying to impress upon her the beliefs that she was a mistake no matter how she tried to use her gifts, that she was meant to be a servant. Had he and most the Chantry their way, all mages would either be tranquil or exist only in the Chantry as religious peons without desires to explore in other ways.

 

Even before her second skin was learned, the nature inside of Saeris had snarled and rebelled at the idea that _anyone_ had the right to tell her how to live in a dictatorship. She'd happily yielded to Valor because his way was to teach her to better strike out on her own, she was a creature of the wilds, not tamed.

 

Swallowing Saeris beat down the urge to snarl and lash out as she shouldered her pack. Her hair was pulled back, her face bare, and she felt bereft of herself. How much of her identity had become in her appearance! Taking it instead as a good lesson that she was more than her looks, or her trinkets and hair braids, Saeris followed Leliana. The Denerim chantry looked and felt much like the others, the scents were not unpleasant. Candles and incense, the dust of many roads that had been brought in by boots upon the worn rugs, various oils and offerings. The sound of chants and soothing tones offset by wails and worried calls. Everything from a lost ring to the blight and begging for a child's health to be restored assaulted her ears. Leliana kept up a steady litany of the chantry's history, the importance of Denerim and idle stories of when the location was founded. Stories of various sister's and mother's in the faith that the common folk would not remember after a generation, but that the lay sisters would study for examples, flowed in soft Orleisan accents giving Saeris something to focus on. They wandered for a long time, no one bothering to approach them as they saw just another woman following meekly after a clear lay sister who knew of what she spoke. A sight that they'd witnessed many times. Leliana was carrying Saeris's staff, an immense sign of trust, but also more believable as the walking stick it appeared to be in her hands.

 

After the third turn around, with Saeris haltingly repeating questions -actually some of the stories were fairly interesting like the sister who shaved her head and ate only porridge but insisted it helped keep her mind unclouded if she seemed a bit odd- they passed a door. A soft cough from Saeris, a knowing look from Leliana in turn and a faint nod. Saeris sensed magic behind that door. Tucked off in the corner as it was, almost hidden behind a statue. Surely this was not the main entrance. Pretending to lean on the offered staff from Leilana, as if weary, Saeris studied the statue, her body just hiding as Leliana bent and began to fiddle with her lock picks. After all, what fool would break into a chantry? There were valuables around but in a back room with only phylacteries?

 

It was almost laughable that back in the tower had been so many protections and efforts to go through from what Surana had reported of aiding in Jowan's escape, and here where the ones were kept of actual harrowed mages was merely a door.

 

“Tricky, but done.” Leliana whispered proudly, not even letting the click of the opened lock give them away. “How will I know which to get?”

 

“Just look.” Saeris whispered back, because that Leliana would be the one sneaking in was without a doubt. She was the rogue, the dextrous one. Leliana briefly ran her fingers over Saeris shoulder, and was gone.

()()()()()()()()

 

Leliana was not certain what she had expected, aside from the immensely uneasy idea that her beloved chantry was hiding such things as phylacteries in certain locations. Perhaps puzzles or traps, or long meandering riddles. The sheer belief in the fact that mages of the circle would never learn of their location of the hidden vials of blood, or the gall to find a way in though was evident in that all between her and the items she sought was two doors. One that had led to a store room with confiscated magical looking items that perhaps were of great value but doubtlessly noticeable if removed. The second opened just as easily, Leliana could admit she was a truly skilled lockpicker but still.

 

The room was cold. Hewn into the ground below to help keep the temperature dropped and with large stone walls and floor, covered in high shelves and crates. Various vials littered the place, as they had in Redcliffe's chantry. Each tiny glass container representing a mage living or dead that the chantry kept leashed and bound to them, a death threat if they ever dared to wander. The cruelty struck Leliana to her core and she began seeking out Surana and Saeris's. It was easier than you would think, all those who undertook the harrowing at a certain time had been grouped together. There was even a crate near the door helpfully labeled 'Lake Calenhad' with the current year. The irony was thick upon the air as she carefully slid the lid back. It had yet to even be unpacked. Showing the lack of concern the Chantry had for it's circle mages ever getting here. Labled clearly was each vial and just as troubling, a note on each mage.

 

-Surana, Alim

Astoundingly quick. Clean. Potential for Archmage. Quiet and afraid at the start of Harrowing. Found in Hinterlands, turned over as a child by parents. Evidence of fire magics over relied on. Temper. Strongly suggest keeping out of faction debate.

 

-Lavellan, Saeris

Exceptional transition seemed easy no signs of confusion or temptation in Harrowing, found in Kocari wilds. Has taken to books and keeps her head down. Strange uses of magic from her people. Harmless. Healer potential.

 

Leliana's brows rose at both notes which she took along with the vials and replaced the crate. Then, ensuring no footsteps had been left behind in the dust, backtracked as swiftly as she could. Any lingering concern the former bard had though about their potential discovery was abated when she slipped back out the last door, locking it easily behind her. Saeris had provided a fantastic distraction that showed observance of the chantry and it's ways above anything that Leliana would have given her credit for. It was no wild hound or fitful moment that kept their alcove secluded. It was the sight of Saeris kneeling before the statue, leaning on her staff with head bowed. Appearing to pray. No member of the chantry or lay person for that matter would wish to disturb such entreaties. It was just good fortune that it was yet another statue of Andraste that lay before the entrance.

 

“What or whom do you pray for?” Leliana asked curious, folding her hands in front of her body. The tension eased from Saeris's shoulders as she realized Leliana was done and successful.

 

“For any whom could use it.”

 

“To whom? Andraste, the maker?”

 

“If there are ears that hear and wish to act, I need not direct it do I?” Saeris smiled up at her and then sighed. “I think I could use fresh air..”

 

“Perhaps a stroll around the gates.” Leliana agreed, knowing that in such a place their voices would carry. Reclaiming the staff as her 'walking stick' from the mage it belonged to the former bard leisurely led out her friend. The silence was a tense one, and Leliana was impressed at how she kept her head down, appearing in contemplation. Not revealing that doubtless the shapeshifter desired little more than to rip the vials from wherever Leliana had them hidden and dash them upon the rocks. They had talked before finally arriving in Denerim though, and Surana had insisted they destroy the evidence just in case. One never knew with blood magic and the issues with Jowan had made the Warden-mage wary enough to caution his childhood friend.

 

“So, Surana's first name is Alim?”

 

“Yes.” A clearing of her throat. “He didn't much care for it. Said it belonged to his father as well..who gave him up.”

 

“Your own last name..?”

 

“It wasn't mine.” Saeris answered simply. It wasn't, had been perhaps but to a very different girl who no longer existed. “My mother's clan. When they would have sent me away at not even seven years because of what I was born capable of, we eschewed their names. I was required to present one however, and it seemed easier to use one I had no attachment to.” Because the last thing Saeris was going to do when here Leliana was helping her remove a blood magic component was explain something in the way of old magic. Not when she was so nearly free.

 

“I understand. I have never used my own.”

 

The silence slipped back into a comfortable one then as they passed guards and pathways, finally out of sight Leliana handed over both vials and notes. Saeris paused, but did not read them. Under Leliana's gaze she folded them over, dropped the two bottles and then cupping her hands, blew softly. Blue and violet flames, so hot it scorched the air around them leapt from her grasp and devoured the glass and paper, ink and blood. When the last bit was not even ash, the flames were permitted to die out and Saeris turned a smile to Leliana.

 

“Thank you, ainée.”

 

“What are sisters for?” Leliana laughed before opening her arms. The surprise in the mage's face lasted only a moment before she clung to the other red head, trembling in relief.

 

She was free.

()()()()()()()

 

When they rejoined the others at the inn they truly would stay at for the evening it was quite a number of stories. Running errands and shopping, Sten having managed to shut down the only bakery as they ran out of sugar but emptied his purse in the process and he was most assuredly not sharing his bag of goodies. Morrigan had a few new chains dangling from her skirt complete with charms and Barkspawn even had one on his collar everyone pretended not to notice. Zevran was chortling and wagging his brows about some card game he'd roped Surana into with someone named Isabella and Surana had yet to cease being as red in the face as Leilana and Saeris in hair. At one point though as Wynne checked everyone over and Alistair was moping in the corner -apparently meeting his relative had not gone anywhere near as well as he had hoped- Surana locked his gaze to her own.

 

“I felt something earlier..like I could breathe. Really breathe. Did you?”

 

“They're gone.” Saeris smiled at him, and the two circle mages shared a giddy expression. Saeris was relieved that he had sensed something, as she had not, but considering she was no longer Saeris Lavellan it was only fitting. All the more reassuring that the efforts she had gone through to separate that person from Saeris Twiceblooded were indeed valid.

 

“I think I understand now, why Jowan had that look to him. When we shattered his. Like he was so at peace, almost..” Surana shifted and then grinned at her, ears red and Saeris snickered.

 

“You still blush too easily. Hasn't Morrigan cured you of that yet?”

 

“Ah..it's fine? Right?”

 

“We're friends, Surana. Whatever you and Morrigan are is entirely the business of the two of you. Just do keep in mind I have better hearing in that other skin of mine?” She smirked to tease and fluster him, chuckling as he started to stammer.

 

“She's pretty amazing. I mean..”

 

“Thought you were scared of spiders?”

 

“Well _yeah_ but come on. It's Morrigan!” He paused then and slowly the color left his face. “She'd still bite me to prove a point, wouldn't she...” As Saeris nodded fighting laughter she could pin point the exact moment that Surana pictured it. “...she's still amazing.”

 

That did it, Saeris was howling in laughter and when everyone else looked over grinned evily at Morrigan. “Surana likes you even with eight legs.”

 

“I didn't..I mean I do but..I mean..”

 

Morrigan just smirked smugly and crossed her arms, drawing attention to her assets as the rest of the group chuckled at Surana's awkward behavior.

 

“Well it's nice to know some things never change. The world could be ending and you miscreants are still giggling over liking someone.” Wynne mock scolded with a smile on her face. “Now let me look you over Surana.”

 

That night they slept in actual beds and rather then figure out an extra room, Saeris smirked. “I'm fine on the floor.” It made no difference to her, comfortable in her other form as she was though she and Barkspawn did end up with a few pillows and blankets tossed down to make a nest in. The idea of curling up back to back with the Mabari didn't even phase her anymore. Safe and warm and with the luxury of an early turn in so she could spend more time in the fade? That was what mattered. Content by the fire down in the common area of the Inn, deserted as it was, the two hounds were left alone.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

_Saeris was not at all surprised to find herself in the Raw Fade, it was her default location as she did not impress her will on her locations, but she was a trifle puzzled as she looked around. Where was the spirit of this location? The wisps?_

 

“ _Have you never been summoned before, Twiceblooded?” Came a rich voice and she inverted herself reforming facing the other way, ears perked up in surprise._

 

“ _Solas? No, I have not. Is that what you did?” Truly she had not realized she_ could _be summoned. The dreamer mage laughed though, and nodded. Around them undulating greens stayed indistinct as he had yet to choose a location. Perhaps, at the distance they surely were from each other, could not?_

 

“ _With your name I am able to find you. Not always admittedly, it can be tricky. I've noticed you do not always sleep and even then you are most the time firmly ensconced in the company of other spirits and dislodging you would be precarious.” The elf dismissed with an elegant hand flickering. It was a very pretentious motion that had her tail wagging in amusement._

 

“ _I'm not going to have trouble getting back am I?”_

 

“ _To your mortals? No, even for one such as yourself, with a foot in the mortal and immortal realm I am only pulling your consciousness to a middle ground, a crossroads of the Fade if you will in order to meet. Does this bother you?” Solas seemed to frown at the idea, as if the prospect of his company being anything other than enthralling to a spirit had never occurred to him. Indeed, as a dreamer, it was more likely for spirits to all but fawn over him and constantly tug on his attention. The curiosity but entirely independent nature of the Twiceblooded was fascinating for him._

 

“ _As long as I can return.” And he could see the rippling of her light created form no doubt as she relaxed, sitting on her haunches to scratch at an ear in as much a visible sign of complacency as because she could. “My mortals do get into situations.”_

 

“ _Oh? What have you been up to since we met?” Now Solas changed the surroundings, perching upon a chair so elaborate it had to be a throne, with spiraling pillars and floors of ornate mosaics crawling into being around them. The transition would have seemed instantaneous, but as always her simple acceptance of the Fade as it was because she had no reason to contest it, gave Saeris an odd glimpse of watching it coalesce into the creations of his will._

 

“ _The usual. Fighting, wandering, currently curled by a nice fire with the hound they travel with. They all have such silly worries and concerns they rush off to deal with and twist themselves into knots over.” Because in the Fade there was no point in concerning ones self with the inevitable Saeris gave no thought to it. Her own most pressing concern was handled, the rest would be one day at a time._

 

“ _I suppose it is something out of your experience.” Solas agreed. “As young as you are, you would not likely understand what can drive a soul to do seemingly 'pointless' things.”_

 

“ _Why not?”_

 

“ _You are free, traveling with those who value you.”_

_Saeris tilted her head, remembering to do so in a more exaggerated manner as Solas apparently could not read the fluctuations she made as the wisps and spirits did. “Well yes, we help each other.”_

 

“ _What help could they possibly lend to a Totem of the Chasind?” Solas asked but it was as if amusing a child, rankling her hackles. With a sniff entirely for his benefit she tilted her muzzle up._

 

“ _One of them helped destroy a binding that was put on me by the Templars.”_

 

_She regretted mentioning it instantly. Solas stood, his eyes glowing blue and the entire section of the Fade became coated in ice as a blizzard stirred her fur at the edges. Yet the show of his power for all it was quite impressive, could not touch her and trouble her because it was not directed_ at _her. She still felt it though which made Saeris realize part of the dangers, and apparently properly given due to the Fade Walkers, as despite her lack of acknowledging it's presence as she would with another spirit she still felt the cold. It seemed Dreamers bent the laws of the Fade as the spirits knew them, in a way she had never been able to understand when told. Fortunately it added to her confusion as she looked around and Solas swiftly brought himself under control, though the protective fury was banked not put out._

 

“ _They bound you?”_

 

“ _Of a sort.” Saeris agreed, pawing at the ice crystals curiously. She could feel them even if thinking they were not there, a figment. Powerful indeed!_

 

“ _Can they again?”_

 

“ _I'll not let them. Nor would those with me. The Templar's do not know the binding is gone. I have no intention of revealing it in my actions.” Because, of course, she should not be able to speak to them if she was but a twiceblooded hound in truth, spirit ridden or no. Finally Solas seemed to take a deep breath and compose himself._

 

“ _If such a thing occurs, I wish you to inform me immediately. Perhaps I could help.”_

 

_Solas watched the way the light dimmed and flared in the spirit's surprise at his offer before regarding him. It was so entirely childlike, curious about his altering the fade in a way that Solas had not realized would seem alien to it. Though it focused on pawing at the snow and ice he'd created inadvertently and in doing so seemed all the more a wild creature. It was enjoyable to watch the curiosity being shown but the idea of this bright young spirit being bound by templar's that in his wanderings seemed to be growing more paranoid and vicious over time? It had brought out the urge to turn the very stones of their temples and strongholds to dust. Attachments for spirits tended to happen swiftly, and Solas had come to appreciate that in them, something that almost never happened among the living. Even this youngling had not been alarmed it had been summoned so much as surprised he had done it, and was not refuting his command._

 

_And Solas could admit, it was definitely a command._

 

“ _I am not under your guidance.” Twiceblooded stated, tail folded elegantly over paws as it sat and watched him, eyes ever glowing that citrine color. Solas found himself smiling, the last of his anger ebbing away in amusement at it's blatant lack of respect._

 

“ _No, you are not. I'd like you to be.”_

 

“ _I think I have enough pride.” Came the teasing response and Solas found himself laughing freely._

 

“ _Cocky little thing.” But it was said fondly. “Perhaps not a formal guidance as you've had from Valor, but mentoring then. Clearly you are not used to the dangers a mage can offer..”_

 

“ _Three of my mortals are mages.”_

 

_Solas paused and then slowly rephrased his meaning, he often forgot just how young this soul was and that time was so very different. It had only been a few weeks since they met but the interaction had not left his mind. It was nice to only be Solas, someone to speak with, instead of Fen'Harel or FadeWalker. Wisdom had been all but shooing him to seek others before he started meandering along the Fade so far from his body and he could admit no small measure of jealousy that this entertaining soul was seeking to waken and travel with mortals instead. If it had the knowledge of whom and what it was currently addressing doubtlessly that choice would be swayed but Solas's own pride would not let him blurt it out._

 

_Much as he wanted to._

 

_He also did not wish to feel the sting of his ego if the Twiceblooded spirit continued to prefer the company of quickling mortals._

 

“ _A mage who can affect the Fade as I can, there are some arts that can bind and change the nature of spirits. Not all mages use it to learn or are born to it naturally as I was.”_

 

_The growl was sudden and echoing so loudly Solas turned, expecting to see a demon. It was then he realized that the light from his companion was far brighter and it's form a bit larger. Startled, Solas just waited as Twiceblooded seemed to shake it's head, reminding itself of it's company. Though fortunately it appeared only very upset, not corrupted the sound had been dangerous. Potential indeed._

 

“ _I have seen it. Those who summon and bind demons to themselves and those who have twisted magic and trapped spirits to corrupt them entirely.”_

 

“ _No..” The sound was sorrowful,wishing that such had never tainted the young one's awareness of the world but Solas did not reach out. Amongst spirits outside of in a dream they may assume the roles of, touch was far more than it was to mortals. Souls without bodies could transmit thoughts and memories from small wisps of power sent out, to actually touch another in such a fashion was saved for those of closest companionship’s. Even Wisdom often did not actually initiate any form of contact, and with it came a barrage of thoughts and senses that would overwhelm Solas. He did however, feel heavy hearted. “I would have kept you from such.”_

 

“ _And how would I grow then? Locked away? No.” Twiceblooded huffed out. “Both were horrible experiences but I have_ learned _and it has aided me. I bear the scars from the second but I was not the trapped one. I only suffered in my mortal body perchance, not on purpose.”_

 

“ _Would you tell me of it?”_

 

“ _What do you know of werewolves?” Saeris sighed then and Solas fought laughter at being on the receiving end of a dog's glare of annoyance. “You know this would be so much better if you could just share properly.”_

 

“ _I've taken memories others sent towards me before.” He rushed to reassure it but the hound just whined._

 

“ _I'm young yet. Garble the process to the point it would make no sense to you. No. We'll do this the clumsy_ talking _way.”_

 

“ _Werewolves?” Solas prompted with a frown. “I'm not sure I'm familiar with that term...”_

 

()()()()()()()

 

Saeris awoke well rested the next morning and shamelessly joined Barkspawn in begging at the kitchen for meat after seeing the porridge her companions would get for their coins. Explaining the heavily edited events of the Brecillian forest had been rather cathartic, and Solas was a fantastic listener. His outrage at hearing of Witherfang's binding and the destruction of the Lady in the end was only tempered knowing the mage who had done it was dead. There was a time or two when he made her explain the feeling of the curse that Saeris had puzzled at his distressed expressions, but at least she was reassured by his words and behavior that Solas had been around spirits long enough to form friendships as they did. It made it far easier to associate with her new 'Dream-friend' even if he couldn't show his emotions and thoughts in lights and reflective wisps of memories. Perhaps some of that was due to finally understanding many of the interactions thanks to her companions in the waking world, Leliana was certainly being helpful!

 

“So, where to?” Asked Zevran cheerily as he sat beside her, where she was once more human in the rooms belonging to Alistair and Surana for the evening, passing out apples he had 'liberated' from a cart on the way over that morning. No one wanted to ask where he had been, there was a waft of perfume from the Antivan that well gave it away.

 

“Ah, some of us are going to camp at the Dalish again, pick up our gear and the like.” Surana started before taking a deep breath. “Some of _you._ Myself, Sten, Alistair..and Saeris are going to go to Flemeth's hut so she can't take over Morrigan.”

 

“No.” Saeris choked out, dropping her apple as she felt her blood run cold. Distantly she heard them repeating the same arguments she'd already heard. Of why they needed to kill Flemeth. Saeris shook her head and closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths. She felt Leliana's hand grasp her own. “I will not stop you, but I cannot go. You _cannot ask this of me!_ ” She pleaded and opened her eyes. Morrigan though was who stepped up to her defense.

 

“Though not her daughter, Saeris is well known to mother. There is a chance she could take her over.” Yellow eyes met Citrine and Morrigan's words did not need to be spoken for Saeris to know what else was being meant. Because if Flemeth asked, Saeris was not entirely certain she would have told the Witch no. In her own way, Morrigan was protecting her too. She nodded to show she understood and a fleeting smile passed over the pale brunette before she scowled.

 

“You should take a thief. Mother likely has valuables but you will need to unlock them.”

 

“That rules out Zevran.” Someone piped up and with the ensuing snickering, no one argued.

 

“Okay, Leliana?”

 

“I am with you my friend.” Leliana agreed and Saeris let out a deep breath.

 

“Are you all right, lovely?” Zevran whispered to her and Saeris snorted.

 

“Just thinking I was better off sleeping.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Returning to the camp ground was easy enough. They had a favored location along each of the roads so far. This one was almost in and yet just outside of the forest. Oddly, it was seeing the dalish again that was the least interesting part of their mild trip. Zevran seemed as nonplussed about the haughty elves as Morrigan and herself were. Wynne was very happily talking with some of the elders, and Barkspawn seemed content as long as there were trees to mark. Though Saeris had to admit the tanner knew his craft exceptionally well and did not even mind Zevran's smug “I told you there is nothing like Dalish leather! Well unless it is Antivan but alas..”

 

Instead of a robe there were now comfortable snug pants and knee high boots, something between a tunic and a bodice that left her arms bare, not so unlike Morrigan's own attire but where the dark haired witch wore a cowl shirt and skirt the bodice was reinforced leather and the tunic under went in a sort of skirt that left bare the sides of Saeris's legs where the pants were. Lacings up the front of her breeches and the sides of the tunic had been left so she could adjust the fit as need be without a belt should she prefer to leave off the protective bodice which served as light armor, and Zevran kept making jokes about 'untying' her. Aside from a roll of her eyes though, Saeris took them in the playful complimentary way they were meant. The boots were also serviceable and if her companions thought her a bit odd to wear them so thinly soled with her toes freed, more like sandals than not, they said nothing. With the very thin leather on the bottom it silenced her steps while letting Saeris feel the earth as she moved. Gloves serving the same purpose and style bared of fingers so if she started 'sparking' it would not get caught in the leather, liberally trimmed in fur and with reach far longer than over her elbows to assist with wielding a staff as it had light mail that could go over it to help deflect blows. Just on the chance she found herself in a situation as with the werewolves again. The gloves could be fastened loose, folded over to be shorter, or pulled up longer. The way her cloak fell over her shoulder's like a mantle meant that with little effort Saeris could be all but attired for cold weather minus her feet. Something happened when she put on that cloak, it was as if all the strength and courage she'd possessed during that moment returned to her with the reminder of her capabilities at that time. It was no small thing to say you'd ripped out a werewolves throat with your teeth!

 

It did not take long though for the four of them to adjourn to their own campsite, leaving the Dalish be. Morrigan especially was keeping a close watch on the form of her friend, for all the two witches of the Wild's rarely would even consider using such a term for the other. The copper haired woman though, scantly younger than Morrigan, was looking off with a distant gaze almost constantly when Wynne was not actively teaching her. Her hand would be resting along her cloak, and while even Morrigan would admit Saeris made a pretty picture of a wild woman attired and perched on the edge of camp as she was gazing into nothing, she worried.

 

For some reason the slightly younger woman had adored Flemeth where Morrigan found her mother irritating and controlling at best. Being around the too sweet and stuck up elves who knew less of their history than Morrigan did had not endeared the black haired beauty to them at all, but Saeris did not really even attempt to socialize with them. It had taken Morrigan a while to realize it was not just the upcoming death of her mother, but that here they were so close to where the spirit at the crux of the werewolf curse had been. The full extent of that was not something that Saeris had ever disclosed but Morrigan would not be surprised to find out that it had somehow altered the very nature of her fellow witch. Such curses were not small matters and duration meant little when magic was involved.

 

Indeed Morrigan was not far off, as much as she cared for and respected Flemeth, the urge to go wander and sleep in the ruins where once had held the Lady was a very potent one. It felt like her heart was breaking anew and she had not even been in the other spirit's presence more than a day. Yet, she did not feel as if there was anyone she could properly approach on her concerns, and if she ventured into the Fade she was half terrified of the idea that some warped memory would be there. It was exhausting.

 

She wanted Flemeth. Or Valor. Someone whom she could trust to speak to and give advice on what to do. How to handle this exceptionally painful experience that she did not have the words to explain. Yet, Valor was locked behind the circle mage tower and Flemeth was potentially being killed off soon by friends of her daughter. The others were leaving in the morning and only stopping to resupply and set the belongings they would not take with them so the secondary group would watch over them.

 

Saeris wanted to warn the old crone, but had no way to do so without leaving. Her frustration finally came to a head as she gripped her staff, the air sparking around her and her teeth clenched around a growl. She'd taken to being just outside the group, unable to look at Leliana and Surana whom she felt closest to of those going to end the Eldest Witch of the Wild's come morning. She'd needed time alone but not because she was tempted to do something entirely stupid. So that she didn't lash out and say or do things she did not want. Lose control. It was the surprising feel of a large steady hand gripping the back of her neck through hair and cloak firmly that stilled her.

 

Sten grasped the back of her neck as if she was just a dog at that moment and not a woman. “Calm your mind. This fretting is pointless. Can you do anything? No. So do not let it trouble you.”

 

“My mind circles around it.” She confessed, not even afraid though right then Sten could have snapped her neck without a thought. They had come to a strange comfortable level in battle and out of it, again his placing her firmly in his mind as a dog that took human form seemed to have made the Qunari much more willing to approach her. Even if it usually meant they only walked side by side in silence. “I cannot still my thoughts, they get away from me.” And if she went to Wynne she'd hear the same chastisement of meditate and calm yourself, not letting emotions grow too strong lest they corrupt them. Sten just breathed out, but it was a little louder than normal.

 

“You seek a way to calm your thoughts enough then?”

 

“Something besides just running off or letting loose magically. I tried to meditate but it seemed to just make my thoughts louder.” She agreed with a sigh. Sten's pressure on her neck gave her a focus. She could not do anything while he was there and right then when half of her wanted to run and warn Flemeth, half of her wanted to go curl up in the Ruins where the lady died and howl until her throat was raw. Then there was the nasty part that was tempted to call down every sort of storm she could as a coping mechanism or take off in her canine form and never cease running. It was just nice to have something else for her thoughts to focus on. She hadn't realized the scent of the Brecillian forest would cause such turmoil in her.

 

“Did your master never teach you battle forms for such moments?”

 

Saeris wrinkled her brow, thinking. Valor had but they were not ones that transferred well, it required a lot of magic to utilize as this was not the Fade and reality had different laws. “Not ones available to me now.” And if she went to the Fade when so emotionally troubled it would either draw unpleasant things to them or have her inundated with spirits who wished to share. Such heart wrenching emotions were appealing to beings, or else the popularity of tragedies and especially tragic tales would not have been so widespread. Sometimes people enjoyed drama that made them cry. Right then however, Saeris did not feel like entering the Fade and providing fodder for the spirits and wisps for it meant experiencing the emotions fully and she was unstable enough.

 

“Come.” And there was a very gentle shake he gave her neck as he walked away. Curious, Saeris followed him further into the woods until they found a clearing. There Sten removed his armor and set aside his weapon, following his example she did the same. “This is the start. Even before the Qun there were ways. To still the mind by focusing first on mastery of the body. Striving for mastery is the goal, not the achievement.” With that said Sten took up a slightly strange looking lunging stance, arms outstretched and body twisted. “Do as I do.”

 

Though she almost fell a few times, Sten simply held his pose and did not offer her any further guidance. Holding perfectly still and waiting for her to clumsily mimic him. She did so poorly, but he grunted.

 

“Now stay like this as long as you can. It is in your mind. You can do this. Your muscles will tremble but they will not falter until long after you think they will. Focus only on breathing. Your rigid form.”

 

It was a lot of words for the stoic man and Saeris felt rather awed he was aiding her in such a fashion. So, to show she appreciated his help she did just as he stated. Breathing in, and out. Her attention would start to wander but the quivering of a muscle in her calf meant she had to adjust slightly. Then her shoulder. Her arms. Little by little her attention was only on each small muscle and tiny adjustments in order to hold the position. Eventually she simply could not any longer and Sten switched which leg was in front, twisting his torso the other way so a different arm was leading as well.

 

“Again.”

 

Four different postures were shown to her that were repeated for each side, each pulling and twisting her body in ways she was unfamiliar with and left her trembling and weary while Sten seemed if anything, at peace. She fell a few times but each just got back into the funny movements and didn't care if anyone walked in on the sight. It was helping. The smells were not sending her into memories, emotions she could not handle. There was only their breathing, and the strain of focusing on the poses.

 

Her mind felt cleared again. It was like fighting, you only had the adrenaline and the focus of the next moment. No wonder Sten felt this helped. He was startlingly flexible for such a powerfully built male and she was an unyielding stick in comparison, but he had told her at the start that it was striving for, not arriving, that she should work on as a goal.

 

When they went to regather their things it was a curious feeling of utter exhaustion and elation that filled Saeris, silencing even her thanks she wished to give.

 

“It is good sometimes, to return to the basics.” Was all Sten said, her actions in doing her utmost for those hours thanks enough. Though she was surprised at the heavy hand on her hair and the barely audible, deadpanned joke of “Good dog.”

 

Smothering her laughter as she followed Sten, Saeris stayed silent but it was not an angry brooding silence anymore as she ate with the others. Because whilst in that strange silence focusing on everything else physically needed to hold the positions had cleared her mind, it was in the aftermath an answer came.

 

She couldn't run and warn Flemeth, but Dreamer mages could find and enter the dreams of any was rumor, if they were skilled and ancient enough. If good enough, even breaking into the sleeping minds of the powerful who would otherwise block them out. Perhaps Saeris wasn't strong or attuned enough to get to Flemeth in such a way, but she knew someone who _was._

 

When they broke apart to sleep and her tail flipped over her nose, curled up by the fire Saeris had to remind herself to calm and gain control over her nerves as she sought out the Fade.

()()()()()()()()

 

_It was not her way, this seeking of another. She knew as a Dreamer herself she could do so theoretically, yet had never learned how. Considering her unique upbringing as spirit trained in the Fade she was only limited by her imagination and decided to start there to accomplish the task ahead. If Solas could summon her and offered her to find him if she needed help, then certainly she should be able to seek him out. Refusing to let doubt creep into her mind she thought hard on all she knew of her quarry. Scents and sounds, sights, emotions and the way he liked to warp the Fade into the images she had seen gave Saeris a surprising sensation that had she a body and identified it as her mortal one, would have felt as if she was being simultaneously squashed and turned inside out. Instead she registered the mild discomfort of forcing herself a good distance, but from the startled sound and the sudden steadying of the Fade by the firm hand of someone not content to remain in the Raw Fade, Saeris figured it had worked just fine._

 

_Opening her eyes she wagged her tail, looking down and somewhat sideways at Solas. A very startled but slowly looking elated Solas._

 

“ _You sought me out, Twiceblooded?” The ancient elf teased but the smug aura already leaking off him could have been read by even an infant wisp._

 

“ _Give me a moment.” She pleaded, feeling dimmer than usual and a lot more worn down, as though she'd just let several wisps barrage her to borrow memories and steal away emotions so they could grow. She actually let herself drop to the ground instead of half in mid air so she'd be at eye level. “That's a first for me.”_

 

“ _Truly? You've never ventured on your own from where your body resides?” And there was a spark of intrigue before Solas was rubbing his jaw, speaking to himself. “I suppose that makes sense, riding a mortal form there's no reason to as there could be a new location at all times. I shall have to remember that excuse for when I waken. To only dream in a location where you lay your head. Most interesting.”_

 

_Saeris rippled her confusion at him twice before remembering he did not speak in the same way she had learned and let out a whine, allowing her body language to do the communicating for her._

 

“ _Ah! Just that it seems you are a fine example of what is and is not known of the capabilities of mages, even ones that would say, specialize in the Fade. The areas you react in surprise to despite traveling with some at your own insistence tells me many of our practices have been lost. I would prefer when I eventually venture amongst mortals once more, awake, to not give myself away.”_

 

“ _I'm pretty certain you'd stand out. You aren't like the mortals I know.” Saeris answered but was feeling steadier. Again, she was amused as Solas laughed delighted. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide, much as those who were not mages would find truths had a way of coming out and your perspective was different in the Fade. It was why the impossible could seem utterly believable to only be a totem spirit rather then spirit trained dreamer mage after all. Not to mention how many regular people had strange dreams that felt entirely real. She'd heard enough from Alistair about his dreams of cheeses and dancing pastries when not the darkspawn littered nightmares to know that there was anything but sense generally._

 

“ _That's the first compliment you've given me.” Solas smirked, arms crossed but Saeris had a feeling he was much happier than his smile was giving off. It was annoying that he couldn't express it in a way she understood better when in the Fade._

 

“ _It could be as much insult.” She pointed out but finally righted her position. “Solas, you'd said I could come to you for help...”_

 

_Solas felt no guilt over the delight that the Twiceblooded spirit was taking him up on his offer. Truly, he preferred the sensation of being helpful instead of when things went terribly wrong and he was thrust into the position of leading. It had not been as enthralling as most thought, when the allure of power and control wore off. Indeed it was more a constant exhaustion with fewer amusements and slowly each became twisted until it took seeing there was no saving his once friends and fellow Evanarius from the creatures they were becoming. He certainly didn't often like what he saw in the mirror when examining his own past._

 

“ _And so I shall if I can. What is the problem?”_

 

_Though Solas could not communicate through emotions and light displays as the spirits did, the body language of a canine was one he was particularly familiar with. Watching as Twiceblooded paced, the hackles raised, the twisting of ears and the way the gait moved half stalk half lowered depending on whatever was going through it's mind. Clearly this was far more important than he had thought. It made the fact he had been sought out all the more pleasing. He_ wanted _to mentor such a novel spirit and see what heights it could evolve to._

 

“ _A group of my mortal companions intend to murder someone I hold in high esteem because of an action she_ might _cause.”_

 

_He had not been expecting that. Eerie as the parallel was, he remembered a time when he discovered the Evanarius were going to 'deal with' Mythal, over some issue that had not emerged but only had the potential to._

 

“ _What is it you wish me to do? I cannot simply invade their dreams and change their minds. Well, I could, but I can tell you from experience that whatever has led them to such a decision would only by you time, not change things in the long run. Unfortunately hearts have no logic and fear is far too common amongst the quicklings. You haven't the millennium to talk sense to them. At times, even that was not enough.”_

 

“ _No! I just..can you help me warn her?” And the tilt of the muzzle as she kept her feet flat on the floor to look up at him, the way her ears were back and her tail low was not exaggerated but slightly more pronounced than if he could read the way her form flickered and sparked, the tiny ripples of the Fade around her immediate vicinity showing her acute distress._

 

“ _Names are common.” Solas started to explain, fighting the urge to reach out and rub her ears as if she were one of the mortal canines he had once enjoyed the company of. No doubt a good part of why he had earned his moniker, much as his preferred shape to change into in his youth before exploring more intricate and ephemeral magical arts._

 

“ _I have a title for her. Multiple ones known and repeated by scores of mortals alive and gone.” Twiceblooded interrupted him, pawing at the ground._

 

“ _That would work. Potentially. Is it one held by others?” For if she was just 'master smith' or the like, it would not help Solas to track this mortal down that was so highly regarded by Twiceblooded. Though Solas was admittedly becoming curious as to what sort of mortal would have such frantic devotion by an otherwise highly independent spirit. He may even be able to admit to a twinge of jealousy. Usually it was himself the spirits flocked so passionately to._

 

“ _Only a lesser form. The true title is hers and hers alone.”_

 

“ _Then tell me, and I'll do my best to bring us.”_

 

_Twiceblooded seemed to go smoother in the output of light from that declaration, visibly relieved before determination took hold. Solas tilted his head, wondering at the larger form, the almost curved patterns in a golden hue he could nearly make out on her fur in a few areas before the echoing voice in the way all spirits spoke once again arrested his attention. The voice was clearly female as ever, but Solas tended to not assign gender to spirits, it was mere habit if anything that made them assume such a form in his experience._

 

“ _Flemeth of the Chasind, of the Kocari Wilds. Great Witch of the Wilds. Mother of Vengeance.” And for all that Solas was usually 'dumb' to the tones of emotions in the way spirits spoke he could still sense the loyalty and affection buffering his own control of the fade. These were no small titles, and he felt his eyebrows rise. Even more so at the final one. It was enough. Titles held_ power _and the amount ricocheting amongst the ones that Twiceblooded had given let Solas reach out a hand, materializing a staff for the comfortable sense of presence even as his other made a grasping motion in Twiceblooded's direction. After all, he would not seek out one dear to it and not bring the spirit along!_

 

_Whatever he expected as the wrench of the Fade twisted and coalesced into a neutral plains of grasslands as his formation of a meeting place, the almost wizened gray haired hag of a human woman was not it. The wide gold eyes as she looked around and then threw back her head and laughed. It was the sound however, that even as Twiceblooded bolted from his side, all but bounding around the hunched crone's form in dazzling brilliant light displays as it would vanish and reappear on another side, that had given Solas pause._

 

_It sounded familiar._

 

“ _Well! I tell you not to return your scruffy hide to my hut until things are done and you find a way around it! Clever child, and what has the Twiceblooded been up to?” Flemeth reached her hand out as if to grasp at the fur of the hound, and looked startled as Twiceblooded dispersed before contact could be made, reforming just a slight ways away._

 

“ _Ah, spirits prefer not to be touched. It is a literal temporary meshing of souls and not to be done lightly. No matter how they act in a mortal body. Welcome to the Fade.” Solas started to explain hooded as he was now to help hide his own appearance._

 

“ _I'm a mage, I'm not precisely unfamiliar with it. Though indeed, far less than yourself.” There was a pause, as the crone looked down at her wizened hands and then at the patient spirit wagging it's tail beside her. “I can think of only one reason for you to go to another for seeking me out. The fools come to handle the information my Morrigan has learned at last, do they?” Flemeth shook her head and then relaxed, form melding into one of an older but far more imposing woman. Her hair gone white and mimicking the horns of a dragon and her attire entirely different. The spirit beside her looked puzzled, but accepting. As they tended to be. What mattered appearance to one who reshaped the fade by will and determination as spirits did? However, the resemblance gave Solas pause._

 

“ _Flemeth...was it?”_

 

“ _You knew me by another name once. And what do you go by now, Old friend?”_

 

_Solas ran his hand over his face, shoulder's quaking as the implications were understood. “Solas. I told Twiceblooded to call me Solas.”_

 

“ _An out of all the ones that could be glimpsed in the Fade the two of you met. Normally I can never figure if something is fate or chance, but in this? I cannot help but suspect Fate. Perhaps moving things along more swiftly.”_

 

_A soft whine interrupted whatever monologue the old witch would have begun. “Flemeth...”_

 

“ _Ah. Yes, forgive me child.” Flemeth gave no heed to the appearance of her actions as she knelt, hand reaching out but not touching the jaw of the chasind hound at her side. “Have you found the storm inside you yet, little wonder?”_

 

“ _Growing.” Twiceblooded agreed and then Solas found his curiosity pushing aside the tumultuous emotions for later upon realizing who had stood there, present in a sense though immensely diminished when Flemeth had formed._

 

“ _As I am now is a better representation of my abilities, less bound. When they come to slay me it will be but a part. There's already been an amulet I forged carrying part of myself within and currently being brought by a family to Kirkwall. There they shall approach the Dalish and use a ritual that will let my wandering self once deprived of a body reform. It will not be so limited. Just shedding one shape for another, one more capable of holding my powers.”_

 

“ _Then this must happen?” came the audible whine of the distressed spirit, flickering rapidly enough even Solas and Flemeth could see that if in a human or elfin form it would have likely been sobbing or screaming aloud._

 

“ _It must.”_

 

“ _Kirkwall is far.”_

 

_Flemeth laughed then and shook her head as she stood once more. “Loyal brat. You are not to seek me out. I have far to fly and much to explore and deal with, indeed my old friend Solas and I will now be able to accomplish much in contact as you've allowed us to be.” There was a pause before Flemeth smiled and dropped her hand so she wouldn't try to pat the hound on her head. “It will not be the last of me you see.”_

 

“ _I don't think I can forgive them this.”_

 

“ _Betrayal is never easy to forgive.” Solas interjected, the surreal nature of realizing that the very person he had sought to avenge was in a fashion, the same that Twiceblooded was protecting even now made his mind swirl in the potential outcomes. “Sometimes it is best to snap your jaws shut and say nothing, let them wonder why you walk away when the time comes.”_

 

“ _He speaks from experience, girl.” Flemeth said but it was with dark humor._

 

“ _Just because the hound has a mortal form that is female is no reason to address it such.” Solas replied, seeking out the familiar ground of being the expert on the Fade instead of the absolutely world shattering revelation of Flemeth being here and alive and clearly holding the essence of his friend to the point they were mixed in areas he would have sworn she was an elf. If not so clearly a human. For some reason though, Solas's comment made Flemeth cackle._

 

“ _She is she as much as she is Twiceblooded. Just because you know the Fade better than I ever shall, much as I know the skies as you never will, does not mean you can tell me to stop calling the girl such!” Flemeth smirked down, trying to lighten the air of sorrow permeating the spirit at such a close range. “He always was bossy.”_

 

“ _Perhaps I could not assist you in your goal..but I hope you realize..” Solas trailed off. “Twiceblooded, I had thought...'Flemeth' long gone and obliterated. You've done me a great kindness by accident. I owe you.”_

 

“ _Hm. It seems to me we both owe you a boon.” Flemeth agreed and the ancient witch smirked seeing the way the hound shook her head viciously._

 

“ _I need none for doing what I felt I must. If anything I owe you, Solas, for helping me. And getting to see one I care so for when worry has consumed me.”_

 

“ _You haven't gone tearing up the wilderness_ again _have you, brat?” Flemeth asked amused though what she clearly meant, for all that Flemeth was having far too much of a grand time keeping Solas in the dark without his even being aware of it-oh it was like old times!- was that Saeris had not been summoning storms in an attempt to calm herself._

 

“ _The largest one who shall come to kill you has helped me focus. He seems amused for a qunari warrior in training a dog.” Emotions however, were rippling along Saeris and she yielded to her desires, after all Solas was in his control of the Fade keeping unwanted spirits and visitors out of Flemeth's dream. She took a step forward and nudged Flemeth's hand with her muzzle, ducking under it so the fingers would trail over her head and ears before stepping back again. It was quite the sight, the wide yellow eyes and dropped mouth even in the more appealing crone form Flemeth had chosen to assume._

 

“ _What was...that..?” Came softly whispered words as Flemeth brought up her hand that Saeris had been in contact with, cradling it to her gently. “Emotions and thoughts and for a moment I was feeling the touch on both sides, the sense of the Fade as never before..my form that of a hound and..”_

 

“ _Spirits when they initiate contact, share everything.” Solas said softly and his gaze was both thoughtful and perhaps a bit envious. “It can be...it changes ones perspective on everything.”_

 

_Flemeth blinked and looked at her hand, then the hound sitting before her and Solas felt his lips twitch in a smile, yes, he himself still became so startled when a spirit initiated contact of such a manner. It was no doubt a greater form of how they always communicated and the full awareness faded almost instantly but the impressions that were left behind were an intimacy that made almost all others seem clumsy and pale in comparison. Nor did the Twiceblooded seem ashamed. Pride evident in how they held themselves and met Flemeth's gaze._

 

“ _I needed you to know.”_

 

“ _And you learned from me as well?” Flemeth asked with her eyes narrowed. “Give and take I assume..”_

 

“ _The important part is I learned you will survive. Am certain of it now though much of what you thought made no sense to me.”_

 

“ _...sneaky thing. Solas, you never told me about this part of spirits.”_

 

“ _I did. Many times. You just tended to get bored and prefer to focus on other aspects of magic.” Solas rebutted her with a casual ease of one who had known the other for untold centuries._

 

“ _I am wakening.” Saeris warned the two ancient ones before locking her citrine gaze to Solas's own. “My thanks.”_

 

_There was suddenly no hound there and Flemeth turned to Solas with a smile and spoke a name she had not used unless telling her daughter's stories for eons. “Fen'harel.”_

 

“ _Mythal.” He replied with a soft almost heartbroken tone._

 

“ _Come old friend, whilst we have the time so unexpectedly, thanks to a hound that is far too loyal for her own good..let us catch up.”_

_()()()()()()()()()_

 

Saeris awoke before the others, and lifted her head. Something had made her waken as it was still dark out. Beside her Barkspawn was rousing as well and sniffing the air. Finally he started to growl just as the scent reached her own nose.

 

Darkspawn. Grumbling she shifted back to human, glad it was so simple now. She would not fight things that she could not safely bite as a hound, having no interest in dying from the taint! “To arms!” Saeris yelled out, hearing the sounds of the camp awakening though she gave a wicked grin. Flemeth had one spell in the back of her mind, so soon of talking of storms and destroying things that when Saeris had briefly shared gestalt communication had passed to her. Who knew you could combine earth and wind to craft a tornado under ones control?

 

The eager press of the Fade so new from being in it's wanderings as a spirit would, meant that upon awakening Saeris was far more flush with mana then she would be as the day waned. While their companions came tumbling from tents her fingers twisted and coiled in the free hand as her staff directed the resulting rush of power. Screaming winds combined into a twisting thin column that touched on the bodies of a few darkspawn, hurling them into the distance as Saeris's staff shattered from the force pushed through it.

 

“Oh come on..” Dropping her now useless staff Saeris pulled out the long knife Zevran had given her and blocked an incoming blow. Indeed, her over reliance on taking the form of her twiceblooded hound self was becoming well known as she simply could not risk it now. Several times Saeris almost used it to run or dodge only to need to tumble out of the way. Leliana's lessons on dodging and evading attacks now saving her life as a hurlock seemed far too focused on her. Saeris dared not even turn to see what her fellows were doing, her free hand throwing the lesser spells she did not need a staff for and lamenting the mana leak it caused to do so without an aide to channel that force.

 

“Can you just not do crazy things? Is that too much to ask?” Alistair yelled as he moved between her and a blow, shield catching it before he bashed the hurlock.

 

“Not trying! I can't bite them though!”

 

“Oh right, that'd be bad. Well, the dog survived it.”

 

“Surana said the kennel master gave it-eek!” Saeris screeched and then for all she kept her jaw clenched tightly did shift forms to be shorter as a mattock went whistling over where her shoulder had just been. Fortunately it left the darkspawn open to Alistair who cleaved off it's head and Saeris shifted back, out of the spraying range thankfully.

 

It had been the last one. The group looked around and Surana frowned, for the first time Saeris could see her childhood friend as the Grey Warden he was supposed to be, serious and thoughtful. “We're still heading out. But we're all going to stop at Redcliffe along the way. I'd prefer you all behind walls. The forest will defend the Dalish but just in case..”

 

“It would be wiser I think for us to go to Denerim.” Zevran interjected. “There is much villany in the underground there and many silly tasks to handle, and we can at least be turning a profit whereas in Redcliffe not much to do save go to the chantry, yes? The inn hardly had anything drinkable.”

 

“I suppose. Can you mages hide well enough?”

 

“Oddly enough my fool Warden, they don't seem to notice the staffs or robes on women so much. Feeble creatures as we must be to need walking sticks and of course, in dresses.” Morrigan said while looking at her nails. A few of the party exchanged amused looks as Surana went red. Morrigan probably didn't realize she'd said 'my' fool Warden.

 

“Ah, very well then. Be careful though, there may be more of them on the road.”

 

“To Denerim then.” Zevran grinned and the looks between Wynne, Morrigan, and Saeris were amused.

 

“We've an assassin leading three mages into the capital city. A fine plan.” Morrigan snarked but they gave in. Really, walls and baths sounded wonderful right then.

 

“He's just doing this to increase his reputation you know.” Saeris teased, and judging from the smirk and cocky wink Zevran sent her, it wasn't that far off. “...I need to find new spells for when I'm cornered and can't take my other form.” And her staff was shattered and would need to be replaced, apparently casting on Flemeth's level was still beyond her, but what a rush that spell had been!

 

“I think I can help you there, dear girl.” Wynne stated. “Don't fret. You're not the first mage to realize a hole in their studies. Though usually for those of us who take up healing it is lacking offense, you just went straight to that instead of defense.”

 

“She does enjoy setting things ablaze, or freezing..or overly playing with electricity.” Morrigan agreed, making Saeris laugh.

 

“Actually out of the lot of us in the tower, I was the _least_ destructive. That always went to Amell and Surana. Pyromancers.”

 

“Set Senior Enchanter Edwin's robes on fire if I recall.” Wynne agreed. “Ended up writing lines for a week from one of the old texts we needed copied. I think however my dear apprentice, you have more than made up for your previously good behavior as eager to call upon the storms as you are now. Not, that I am complaining. There certainly are few better places for it than fighting these hordes.”

 

Though Saeris was bantering, Morrigan briefly reached out and squeezed her shoulder before looking ahead as if nothing had happened. Knowing that the night prior had been hard on Saeris, close to Flemeth as she was. It was not unwelcome and Saeris let out a heavy sigh even as they began to increase their speed to Denerim, packs shared since Saeris didn't need a tent or as much in the way of supplies by doing much of the hunting as a hound. Even knowing that Flemeth would be okay, and relieved Solas and her shared a friend that she was able to reunite, the sting of her friends going to kill her mentor had her insides twisted.

 

It would take a long time for her to come to terms with how to forgive them. If she even could.

 


	10. Chapter 10

AN: RL. It did the thing.

()()()()()()()

 

The Fade was always unique when Solas explored it. No matter how many times he had wandered it's fathomless depths, it was always shifting. The slightest change in his experiences and that of those who had passed by an area could entirely reform the landscape and it was up to his will if he permitted it to do so or kept it strongly held to his own desires. Yet, every time he interacted with Twiceblooded the spirit seemed almost to both meld into the Fade as any other spirit, and dominate it at the same time. As if the very presence of the hound let the Fade grow stronger in it's own right. Yet another anomaly to the strange creature.

 

Meeting Flemeth whom had the scraps of his dearest friend was a bittersweet reunion that both soothed and tore open new wounds. They had plotted and planned long into the weeks, time but a footnote to the two ancient beings and it was only so much later now that Solas realized he had not seen light or sound from his most curious new friendship. So, he sought them out.

 

It was frustrating for Solas to realize the spirit must be 'awake' in it's mortal form for he could not seem to properly find it. Were it only on the 'living' side of the Veil it would not be so troublesome. Indeed, it would hardly be the first interaction with a spirit that had found themselves over there and confused if not corrupted. Yet in the very way that Twiceblooded dwelled in a mortal body, riding it as it were to speak, and Solas did wonder how it had found a mortal even if it was just a hound willing to give it such control at the expense of it's own, it left him unable to call to it. Very much as if it were truly mortal and awake.

 

Yet there was nothing for the ancient mage to do, but wait.

 

Being thwarted was a rare act for Solas in many of his thousands of years, and by such a young spirit accidentally? It...rather stung his pride.

 

 

()()()()()()

 

In a dingy tavern that had seen better days, which honestly was much of Denerim outside of the market and noble district, sat two of the group most commonly trailing after the remaining Wardens of Fereldan. Despite the catching appearance of the two no one was even glancing their direction anymore. Once a couple had been there for a few hours and neither overindulging in display's of affection or arguing the bystanders seemed to forget them. Waitresses and hopefuls had already approached the handsome blonde but with a charming smile and a wink, perhaps a lewd appraising glance, he had dismissed them all. Of course, considering the young cast to the features of his partner it was easy enough to understand he was playing the babysitter for a new explorer into the world of over consumption in liquor. No one thought anything of how he had upon arrival charmed and threatened in turn (and indeed, mixed the two) to empty the corner table which had been adjusted so that the two both could sit beside each other and if need be, lean upon the wall as it was benches and not chairs in that location. Flanks and backs so guarded, and the other tables adjusted just slightly so it seemed awkward to sit there, they had a section of the Pearl all to themselves.

 

Considering everything, it was a very good thing. Saeris could not recall how long they had been there but she felt sick. Too much red wine, flowing abundantly thanks to Zevran. His constant encouragement for her to have just a little more, just one more glass in the charming manner he breathed naturally had done the woman in. Her head was swimming to the point that opening her eyes or even holding her head up straight felt impossible. Her stomach was roiling and honestly she could not imagine keeping the contents in for much longer. What had brought this on? She fought to remember while her thoughts seemed to spin in circles ever growing more dizzying. It made her stomach weaker and worse at holding its contents in. Even if to be honest the lax sensation of her muscles was rather pleasant as was knowing she was _safe_ being like this because Zevran wouldn't let anyone take advantage of her and his own tells were overbearingly obvious.

 

“Well, that answers that, my dear. Easy now..” Zevran chuckled even as he helped steady the apparently close to panicking mage who had stuck by him. It was interesting the phases of a newly overly drunken mage. She'd gone from nervously sipping, to relaxed and joking. Now after he'd witnessed her staring at a loss as her hand hovered somewhere between raising the glass and not he could tell she'd hit the point where her body wasn't doing as she expected and it alarmed her. On the positive side, she no longer was shaking and pale from what she'd helped him accomplish. While inebriated mages were generally not precisely safe should they start casting spells, the crow felt certain he could head off the worst of her problems by just getting water and a little food into her and if she hadn't hit him with friendly fire during their skirmishes with all the enemies to date he was likely safe from any retaliatory blows now. Admittedly, she had managed to partake of a lot more than he had expected for her size and relative inexperience with imbibing for the purpose of dulling memories.

 

“Don't feel well.” Came the almost tremulous sound as she leaned into him and Zevran chuckled, fondly at the sight of the same woman who could call down all manner of storms upon their enemies, felled by an aged grape juice.

 

“Ah you see that's because you listened to me the first time. Now, drink this, slowly, little sips..that's a precious girl. ” Zevran fought to keep his smile from blossoming into the laughter he honestly wished to let loose but again, touchy mages without their usual inhibitions. Not good for staying on the living and less than crispy side of things. It was quite pleasant though that they had been without either of the other two mages whom would certainly not have approved. Zevran felt that if you could get someone either into bed or drunk you could get a far better sense of where you stood with them. Such an attitude had kept him alive and his targets dead more times than he could count. Though, he hadn't expected such a..cuddly..nature from his companion even as she shifted so her cheek was once more upon his shoulder after drinking half the water cup. Perhaps because she was so against touch in her canine form?

 

“You are a wretched influence.”

 

“Indeed, I am my dear girl. Didn't the cranky ones warn you of as much?” The same ones likely asleep in the inn. No matter, those locks he could pick easily. A door was a door, chests? Oddly tricky little things.

 

“They'd have left you.” Saeris grumbled, glad that Zevran's shoulder made a fine pillow. Slightly shorter than her he may be but with her inability to sit up completely straight it worked out just fine. The smell of leather and sweat and whatever was in that woodsy smelling oil he liked to use on his hair was swift becoming familiar after the time they'd spent together in Denerim without the other two going along on the same 'adventures'.

 

“I did not blame them.”

 

“You don't leave _pack._ ” The final word was almost snarled fervently and Zevran found his smile falling in light of the passionate declaration.

 

“Your bitch is showing.” He tried to keep it lighthearted but after all the events of the day and evening, her sudden change in demeanor and her words were making his pulse race. He did like his women dangerous, and while he had no intentions of taking advantage of his drunken companion it didn't stop familiar reactions.

 

“So? Still true.”

 

“Ah..” Zevran swallowed his own wine but fell silent, not wishing to press for further clarification. Really since they arrived in Denerim weeks ago they had been finishing all manner of silly tasks. From Wynne passing off letters between amorous nobles she had collected to looking for missing persons and items. The usual foolish actions that they were so accustomed to. They had even done a search on the man that Surana had asked them to look into, something about Redcliffe when Zevran and Leliana had been helping Saeris track down the phylactory to handle instead of all the insanity that went on there. A chantry Brother of some sort that was now missing and a pair of corpses in his home they'd dealt with. They would not leave Denerim of course until the party off to kill Morrigan's mother returned.

 

After a while such actions however were but trickles to the coin pouch and while Zevran earned a fair amount back gambling and cheating at cards in taverns such as they were in now -the pearl did owe him a few favors and he heard rumor that Isabella may be in town once more soon- Morrigan and Wynne had gone along with Zevran to meet with one of the crow's about some less than legal jobs. Saeris had been there at his side where she had placed herself since they set out for Denerim since it was safest considering her lack of a staff; and whilst Wynne refused for them immediately and then they left to separate again for odd jobs, Zevran had turned back.

 

What he had been surprised at was Saeris going with him.

 

“ _You aren't going alone.” The mage insisted as she moved into step with him. Zevran started to bluster his way, perhaps only halfheartedly though as he had not done more than his signature laugh before the former crow changed his mind. No, he would not treat the storm mage as if she was a fool. He did count on her sleeping in canine form to prevent the two women who took the other two beds in the room they shared at the inn from turning him into a toad after all._

 

“ _I will be killing.”_

 

“ _I know.”_

 

“ _They may be innocent.” There was no reason to sugar coat things, not to the woman following at his side now. Though he did not miss the way she paled and shuddered, the clench of her jaw was in determination._

 

“ _You aren't going alone.” She reiterated and Zevran found his feet suddenly stuck to the ground, his jaw on it's way there. Such moments from his companions since they spared his life were much more common than not but they always startled him._

 

“ _My friend, truly, I have done much worse in the past. I can handle these tasks. If they are offered to those with no training certainly I am more than capable.”_

 

“ _It's not that.” Saeris insisted before she breathed out hard, her face makeup off and the braids traded for a serviceable bun to help her blend. Oddly it had the effect of making her seem less herself to those that knew her well. Zevran idly noted he should suggest she get a partial tattoo of it such as he had, perhaps the one that trailed over her jaw? With a half growl she scrubbed her hand over her face, frustrated. “You're my_ friend. _Even if you do something I don't agree with I am not just going to leave you to possibly walk into a trap. They saw you, they may take this chance.”_

 

_Honestly Zevran was quite touched. Not that he would show it, he wasn't even certain how because flirtation was always ignored or deflected casually by Saeris for all she wasn't offended by it. “It is not the way for crows. One has my contract, the others wouldn't bother.”_

 

“ _Zevran are you telling me no one would try to steal that bragging right?” And it was drawled with an eyebrow up that clearly told of times that students in Kinloch hold must have stolen credit from each other. No doubt it had been a game of sorts and who knew what stories he could pull out of Surana with that train of thought. Confronted with that logic the assassin held up his hands and smiled, his heart fluttering that he did indeed have friends who could see through his actions and would not let him go alone. No doubt were Surana there he would have been insisting on going, perhaps the whole group of them. How curious life turned out._

 

“ _Promise me then, my dear, that if it becomes too much you shall tell me.” He would not make her suffer,tarnish her morals any further than she was willing to do on her own merit, and yet he also knew she would at most step out of a room while he handled things. It was..novel this having people to rely on who wouldn't stab him in the back and he wasn't sleeping with._

 

“ _Okay Zevran. I promise.”_

 

She had done well. Three times without a word Saeris had not entered with him when he went to kill off those he could not promise were not innocents. At each she had guarded the exit for him and then healed him of any injuries if he had them. Usually caused by positioning himself in such a way he got a scrape here or there on a beam or nail that protruded when sneaking about or getting the best angle to discreetly end a life before he was detected. Nothing even worth a poultice and yet Saeris would risk detection to trail her glowing fingers over his skin in a dirty back alley every time, prevent a bruise from even considering to form. Zevran didn't say anything but his thanks, understanding it was her way of apologizing for not going in with him.

 

Corpses were helped hauled to the drop site without a word about the various fluids and smells, she didn't balk at helping him fight off brigands and bandits or even the few thefts they did. In those it was almost laughably easy as give a Fereldan a large fluffy dog to fuss over and they did not notice the blonde elf walking in and then back out with a loaded sack.

 

But the last one, his target had been foul and ready to fight back. Saeris had fantastic instincts it seemed because indeed, there was a trap laid for him by would be eager crows not yet making a name for themselves. While normally he did not worry for his mage companion as she could easily summon storms even indoors and prevent the building's collapse without a staff, there had been no room to maneuver for that this time. Still without a staff, it was harder for her to control her magics outside of healing or storms and the lot had been armored heavily enough her jaws as a canine would do no good. Nor did he wish her to go after them with just the knife he'd given her!

 

To be honest Zevran had no idea _what_ she had done to their attackers but they had almost turned on each other in their frenzy and made it where any sense of logic and skill vanished to a massive bloodlust and recklessness. They'd handled the mess, and Saeris managed to burn the corpses carefully in flashes of blue fire that burned swift and hot leaving only ashes behind but it had also drained her reserves very low.

 

And when all was said and done it had been very messy. Her complexion a little green from the rampant violence that she'd witnessed them capable of was not so unlike that of the darkspawn but it was eerie seeing humans doing such things. Zevran could not remember a time when he wasn't aware of and indeed capable of the worst acts various people could commit but that didn't mean he wanted his companions to change.

 

The extremely long few days had a violent completion and realizing that it had all started to take a toll on his companion, Zevran had cajoled his young friend into going for a drink with him. And now he had a more drunk than not mage using his shoulder as a resting location as she spoke in a way that reminded him of her earlier declaration that he was her _friend_ and it made him wonder, just how did she mean it? Outside of bedsport he did not have much experience with kinder emotions, indeed all crows slept with their friends but not a member of their ragtag group had taken him up on it. Mayhaps she was reconsidering? Oddly the thought made him furrow his brow as it was not...enticing. Peculiar.

 

“You are quiet.”

 

“Ah, that my dear is because you baffle me.”

 

“I'm simple.”

 

At that Zevran laughed and ignored her grumbling. “My dear girl you-”

 

“Use my name.”

 

“Oh? Not fond of endearments?”

 

“You use them distantly. We're all 'dear girl' this or 'dear boy' that.” And she looked up at him with a pout that was more adorable on her than anything, hair falling out of it's bun and into her face only adding to her childlike demeanor at the moment. “You're Zevran, my friend, a mentor of sorts and a very bad influence. Not 'my dear boy'.”

 

“Man. Trust me if you need a demonstration..”

 

“Then stop calling me girl. I'm fully grown.”

 

“Young yet by comparison, Saeris.” Zevran teased her, as if it was the first time he'd had someone almost twenty, or perhaps for all the mages were not certain of their ages she was? Insist they were 'grown'. Surana indeed could be very persistent about it, ah teasing his Warden's was such a pleasure, he missed them.

 

“Pfft. And I have more facial hair than you when in my other shape.”

 

Again, Zevran found himself laughing. She did have a good point.

 

“Yes, very well. I shall think of something to call you then. Perhaps, 'my hound?'”

 

Saeris gave a crooked grin. “Think you're more a rook than a crow. Smarter, tougher.”

 

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

 

“You should, feathers.”

 

“Feathers?”

 

“You give me a bad nickname, I give you one.”

 

“Well you _are_ a hound. And insisting I was pack.”

 

Saeris finally stopped using him as a cushion and leaned against the wall proper as she waved her hand side to side before sipping her water again. The plate of cheese and bread he'd signaled to be brought over was then tugged from his place as she started to finally work at putting something in her stomach besides wine. “It means something.”

 

“Hm, I would ask for an explanation but I do believe the wine has made it impossible, no?”

 

“Could burn it off.”

 

“Burn?”

 

“Heal. Make it..” Saeris shrugged not knowing how to explain that with her magic she could speed up the rate her system broke it down. She'd of course gotten piss faced drunk before, by herself knowing how to access the kitchens. Just so she'd know what it felt like and see if she could remove the effects. Theoretically alcohol was a poison to the body and so the process of healing it and cleaning up the bloodstream was the same. It did create an interesting side effect though of saturating the air with the molecules she removed from her system and the small amounts of wine they were given at meals, though watered down, could still get everyone around her drunk when she experimented in using it. Not all avenues creative types explored had a purpose, but mages stuck in a tower could come up with some interesting creations nonetheless.

 

“After all the work I put in to helping you forget?” Zevran teased though he did make a mental note to ask about that at a later date. A handy trick, that.

 

“So you'd believe me.”

 

“Try me. Well you can sample me of course but a room would be best for that.”

 

Another laugh as Zevran dodged her clumsy swat in his direction before Saeris finished her meal.

 

“Pack is something like family and something like very dear friends. I guess..there's two types of pack. Maybe three..” Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to explain it. “Blood related sort of family. Those who are like that but you are not related, but feel like it. More than friendship, then you have friends that you fight beside and trust to take a blade for and would do the same for you. All of those are pack.”

 

“And you would take a blade for me.” Zevran summed up, touched by the notion for all he was aware of and indeed reciprocated the idea. “Though it is not necessarily a good idea. After all, I am certainly better at dodging than even you in your furred form my dear hound.”

 

“..You could be family.” came the voice, soft and almost nervous that made Saeris not sound like her usual self.

 

Zevran felt the air leave his lungs at her emotional confession, he hadn't been expecting that.

 

No one had ever wanted _him_ for anything outside of his skills be it in the bedroom or dealing death. Oh, certainly, he was a fine thief, a better fighter. A fantastic assassin who was quite happy in his profession. Zevran was also always the lover, the whores son, the crow bought young and pretty to train up right. Perhaps to the little shapeshifter he was also something of a mentor teaching her to fight -and it had kept her alive in the last ambush together!- but the gentleness she said that confession in made him panic. Because it implied she wanted more and perhaps that was why she turned aside his flirtations. It would not be the first woman or man who thought that instead of lovers there was something of long sunsets and rings and forever..

 

“Ah, whilst I am very flattered I don't see myself as that sort.” He could be gentle in his rejection but the utterly pained whine that came from Saeris made him stop. It was so peculiar how she would do that.

 

“..Sorry. I just..Leliana is like a sister but..”

 

Ah so she was looking for romance with one she was familiar with and apparently his fellow rogue was off the table. Second choice, not unusual but never pleasant. “I'm not one for serious relationships, beautiful as you are...”

 

“Wait..what?” Wide confused eyes and a tilt of her head betrayed her bafflement.

 

“Is that not what you meant? I am flattered and you're a wonderful woman, very powerful and skilled but..”

 

Saeris slapped her hand over his mouth and huffed, though her eyes still seemed a bit too dazed she was more coherent than he had thought.

 

“Brother.”

 

Zevran forgot how to breathe and then any capability of speech vanished from his mind. A mind that seemed capable only of repeating that word endlessly. Instead when her fingers left his lips he could only mouth the word at her and she nodded.

 

“Family. Pack.”

 

No one had _ever wanted him as family._ Even his own mother died upon his birth. There was never the chance to have a family that didn't somehow involve his other skills and he would always doubt in some way if it wasn't from the allure of being the Crow, the whore son so naturally skilled. Perhaps a lover who would wish to claim him exclusively if he lived to retirement but it would always be for what he was, could do. Not just for him. But, a brother? Him? There wasn't anything about him he thought of as 'brother' material. Admittedly most of what he knew of that was from when he was caught in various beds -on purpose of course- but..

 

Saeris smiled as she watched Zevran seem both entirely awed and scared at the same time as he thought over what she'd revealed. It was true though, they spent time together, bickered, supported each other as Leliana did with her too, perhaps even Morrigan. More, much more, she could not tell Zevran but ever since his words 'my mother was Dalish' it had been in her head. Oh sure, her hair was copper and fire but there had been more blonde in it once, their eyes were not so unlike each other, and Saeris could mentally admit to herself that they could be like half siblings. Honestly if she ever managed to track her mother down and introduced Zevran the odds of his being all but adopted were quite high. It was a common point they had and she latched onto it, her instincts insistent. He was of her _people_ and yet separate from it as she was _. Pack._

 

“I..do not think I would, you shouldn't want me as a brother my hound. I'm not, I wouldn't..”

 

“You're perfect just as you are. You've already been a fine one.”

 

Zevran swallowed the rest of his wine in one shot and looked at her, fear and elation warring in his gaze so Saeris took pity, guessing it was just the word which was sending him reeling. “pack.”

 

“Pack.. I can. Yes. Pack. What does that translate to then, packmate?”

 

“Yes.”

 

A soft cough and a wry smile was sent her way then. “You know now I am experiencing werewolf flashbacks.”

 

“It did change me.”

 

“We wondered.” Zevran stated but did not pry, and Saeris smiled at him. As she resumed eating, Zevran poured himself another glass of wine, noticing she had clearly 'burned off' her alcohol he refilled her glass as well. If he spent the rest of the night just staring at nothing looking dazed, and mouthing 'brother', it only made Saeris smile.

 


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This was a _hard_ chapter to get out. But it was needed.

()()()()()()()()

While going towards the Kocari wilds once more it seemed as if there was a peculiar tension to the group. Leliana fidgeted at times, Alistair was twitchy, Sten was the only calm one with his mind on the coming task and accomplishing it with as little wasted effort as ever. Surana was a mixture of conflicted emotions that left him feeling sick half the time, though he said nothing. On one hand the threat to Morrigan was not something he could leave active. His own emotional entanglement with the beautiful shapeshifter aside the woman was also a friend and loyal companion. Allowing her to be possessed by one she had trusted and was raised by was not something he could abide. To this point Morrigan had not asked for anything, giving her assistance and sharp wit freely in equal measure. The different point of view she had on magic was also exceptionally welcome considering all his experience thus far was only from what the Chantry permitted the circle to teach him or a few snatches of information cautiously dropped from Irvin's private tutoring.

 

The conflict however, was before Morrigan, before the Blight, he had been friends for over nine years with Saeris and while out of their little group back in Kinloch hold she had been the most obscure and strange she was also the most unpredictable. Saeris had come from the Chasind, had kept to the Tranquil and had odd ways of looking at magic from the start. Though quiet in their group of troublemakers she had also been the most fey and wild in turns, something that had appealed to Surana from the start. When everything in the tower was a never ending sameness day to day with few variations, it was something that even _magic_ could seem dull in their lives. Yet, Saeris had always seemed to charge the very air when she walked into a room. The odd spells she'd cast for light, her habit of later painting her face in a method that reminded all of them that she had been born of a wilder stock. That had seemed exotic paired with her strange features more delicate than any human he'd seen before, and her unusual hair and eye coloring. Surana knew now he'd been more in love with the idea of being with her, of what those differences and chances to live more like in a tale had been by pushing their friendship a little farther. Not that, and it was embarrassing to look back on it, that Saeris had been aware he was trying to make it more serious than just an understanding that so many of their year mates had.

 

In Morrigan however the exotic was even more present. Her sharp tongue and eyes, her random smiles and girlish behavior at the ways he could surprise her were endearing. There was something to Morrigan that made him want to try and be the Gray Warden he felt was needed, perhaps finally starting to succeed in it. That they were now moving into some strange relationship where Morrigan was adamant that it meant nothing permanent, that they had no claim on each other though was still speaking of it often. Saeris had not wanted more and never brought it up, Surana felt maybe he was not so hopefully blind that perhaps in Morrigan's constant speech on the matter, she felt more than she was letting on. Calling him 'my Warden' had only brought further hope on the matter.

 

It did not change though that Saeris had long been his friend and while they did not tell each other everything, the now canine shapeshifter was oddly silent on many things as open as she was about others, that the same Flemeth Morrigan had begged them to kill? That was someone dearer to Saeris than he thought perhaps any others were.

 

No good solution was present. To save a companion whom was beginning to grasp his heart in her hands he would have to devastate a stalwart friend who had strode out of the tower and at his side fearlessly.

 

No wonder Duncan had seemed so weary often if such difficult choices had been even partially normal for the man.

 

()()()()()()()()()

 

Flemeth knew of course. Knew they were coming any day. The fact her little stormbringer had been the one to find a way to warn her never ceased to make the old witch pause in her actions. Hands holding onto the broom she had been using to sweep out the hut, cleaning in preparation for guests that would be indeed most unwelcome, it brought a smile to her face. Solas still was so entirely certain he knew everything, was right in his way, the foolish bookworm that he'd always been at heart was surprisingly terrible about adapting. So that his newest 'spirit' companion was actually something more never even was a remote possibility to his thinking.

 

Flemeth could admit it was a pity Mythal was not a dreamer herself, while exceptionally powerful not within the Fade had been her specialties. Oh certainly, the Evanarius had all _learned_ skills of that sort but it did not come naturally to any save for Solas.

 

The grimoire had been adjusted, a few pages carefully removed, in readiness for handing it over or it's theft upon her corpse being left to rot outside. It would make its way to Morrigan then and set more things into motion. Her daughter was a smart woman if blinded a little too much by her hubris and arrogance. Traits she came by no doubt from Flemeth herself.

 

There was another though, carefully wrapped in seeming tales of nonsense but each very cautiously chosen with Solas's help. He'd been intrigued when Flemeth mentioned there was a potential fade walker child among the human wild ones and given her bits of advice if she was so insistent to pass it on. Hopefully, in time, the Twiceblooded girl would figure them out. A story book to guide her. It was not lost arts and careful instruction much as Flemeth had given to her daughters over the centuries. Morrigan would take that burden, as she would bear the one she stepped out the hut to ensure came to pass.

 

Once more the old witch resumed cleaning up her home. The trap door well hidden now with a spell as well as mundane means, no doubt her too loyal hound would return and mourn even knowing Flemeth would live on. It was touching, endlessly so, to think that once more one loved her for _her_ not whom she had been or needing such information. What remained of Mythal lurking in the fringes of her ancient and withered heart, slowly consuming the soul to claw the way out of the abyss her ancient kindred -save for solas- had damned her too. That brittle and withered heart softened at the edges by the bright devotion, one to a person beneath the titles and power.

 

So it had been in the earliest of days. The ones that to Mythal were more resplendent than any crystal spires floating and chiming in the air that came centuries later for it was when the Evanarius could still trust that those who chose to follow them did so for whom they were, out of love, devotion, friendship and common goals. Not later when it was fear and awe, worship for ideals borne in their mind and over stretched myths turning former mages and leaders into generals, to kings, to 'gods'.

 

It helped, endlessly that Saeris had handed over such information to her as the approximate time of the executioners arrival. While this was no strange game for Flemeth, indeed many a times she had perished and her soul would move on, slowly supporting and growing Mythal's at the cost of her own, her daughter's yet they would become part of something so much more. This time however, one of her daughter's was too far for possession and in the midst of some very tricky if distasteful tasks. Morrigan with her own 'job' could not be viable, not now. Not when in courting one or both of the Gray Warden's for her own mission to come to fruition where any alteration in her personality would be noted. There was another option of course, and it would only eat up more of her and make her more Mythal once more, just a touch more in the flotsam of her cobbled soul from all those she had been but with Flemeth still at the head until she'd become enough to let Mythal step forth once more. Though with Solas now in the schemes..

 

Yet, though Flemeth had shared much with her old friend she kept secret how she would survive even from him. By now there was a ship docking in Kirkwall, an unwilling player in her game still carrying a small piece of her to the Dalish eventually. At any point the ritual to 'ease into slumber' the Dalish now used for their perished ones could summon back one of the Evanarius who had carefully crafted it for their own use in case they fell into slumber or death. A fail safe, one of the reasons they had been considered Gods, always returning.

 

She didn't choose to utilize the Dalish often, wishing for them to keep thinking of her as Ashabellanar rather than to connect the dots. Unlike Solas who had sneered at whatever fragments of history he had pulled up regarding the Dalish when around the locations he explored in the Fade, Flemeth did not despair of the shades that were now The People. Indeed with all they had gone through they bent a knee too quickly, angered and forgot all too soon. They were wrong and stubborn yet they also adapted well enough and thrived and for the time that the world remained as destroyed as it was Flemeth would not fault them for doing their best.

 

They had been abandoned and betrayed in many ways by those who they had looked to for guidance, in a potent truth the Evanarius had crippled them by allowing that reliance. So smug in their everlasting power for so many millennia that they couldn't see their own corruption. 

 

There were always a few bright souls, a few flickering embers that helped her look beyond her own vengeance at the long and chaotic plans awaiting. So many millennia in the process, only to be hastened now with Solas's help. He should awaken in a few years but before then he was able to wander much more usefully whilst still in sleep. Questioning the spirits he had always yearned to be more like than not.

 

Thinking on bright souls though made Flemeth chuckle. For there was also her daughter. For a human she had a very bright heart and mind, and indeed the stubborn pride that ran so deep and cracked in her betrayed the whisper of elven magic Flemeth had worked so hard to teach Morrigan. Never enough for her dark haired girl, no, but once exposed, for all her body was never going to properly be able to utilize it, it had still changed the woman.

 

And then there was Saeris.

 

Really, one day Solas would learn about his Twiceblooded friend and Flemeth looked forward to cackling at him, the scrap of Mythal within her breast resonating at the idea. Yes. The Stormbringer would grow into her skin, into her powers, and with any luck be ready to harness her destiny at the crucial point if all went well.

 

That cheerful thought helped her move to outside her hut when the cawing of raven's and various swamp birds came through the open window to warn her of coming visitors.

 

 

It seemed once more, it was time for the dance Flemeth knew too well. 


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Argh I am trying to update Jackal or Halberd and nope. This demands out. 

()()()()()()()

 

The group stood together looking at the corpse of what had been a terribly deadly dragon, and once a witch of the Wilds. It was eerie, solemn, and they were very badly injured on the whole. Potions had needed to be used up and not a single one of them was capable of healing magic or determining if the various items within the hut were safe for consumption. It was saying quite a lot that Sten had a broken clavicle and sword arm, Surana was struggling with walking unless leaning almost all of his body weight upon his staff. Alistair had fared the best, ironically from running around in almost circles but keeping the snapping jaws of Flemeth focused about his frame almost as often as the jets of flame had been. Leliana had been constantly striking and redirecting but neither bow nor daggers did much good against the hide of an immense dragon.

 

Perhaps that was half of the solemn air. Before their eyes the corpse was sinking in on itself in a rapid decay that rendered bones visible before long, robbing them of hide and scale which macabre as it was would still likely have been salvageable. Within a few minutes there was not even bones remaining, merely ashes that blew away in the wind leaving the only proof anything once was there the destroyed area around, and the hut. A small key as well, covered in dirt where the body had once lain.

 

It was, each of the four exchanged a glance, very peculiar and uncomfortable sorcery to witness. As if the haunting words the old crone had given to each of them had not been bad enough. How easily she had accepted they would not be lying to Morrigan, though Surana had not considered that for a moment. Inside Leliana went to open a few chests and look around, Sten and Alistair waiting outside and Surana trusting the thief would know what to look for better than they would. The former chantry lay sister however, felt uneasy.

 

It was all too clean. Too orderly in a mischievously haphazard fashion. This was not the sort of way things were scattered when you lived like this but as if planned. Laid out. She'd been subjected to enough traps in her life to be ever so wary. Yet nothing attacked or tripped or even lit up when she finally had secured the grimoire and a second book that looked useful. There were even a few smaller things that Leliana thought Morrigan may want.

 

_You know the problem with those whom are loyal, is they never forget._

 

Leliana hesitated, hand about to pull down a staff that was in the corner remembering that Saeris had damaged hers before they departed. Those words...it had seemed the others shrugged them off but they bit deep into Leliana's thoughts and held fast. Because she adored her 'sister' figure in the capricious mage but there was no doubt the canine shifter was loyal to Flemeth. In a way not even the witches' own daughter had been. There was a sort of gloating in the tone that had cackled those words out, not that any would be surprised if Flemeth knew something they all did not.

 

The terrifying thought had taken hold though and Leliana knew her instincts were very good. After all that she had lived through they had needed to become that way. And so when her sensation that there were levels of something even beyond The Game happening ate at her nerves, the former lay sister and bard knew better than to simply dismiss her unease. But perhaps, in actions she could prove her apologies where words would fail. Licking her lips she grasped the strange staff, so simple and plain as it was there were wolf teeth hanging down and it was a memento of the crone. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would help ease the betrayal she had caused on her dear friend's behalf.

 

Whether she would forgive Leliana her part in this remained to be seen.

()()()()()()()()()()

 

Every inn had a different level of natural light that came in to the common room. Some had expensive glass panes, other just wooden slats that could open or close as need be. The room that they had acquired to all share in Denerim was one oft lent to groups traveling to the capital and had four beds, barely wide enough for a single person on their side but they were clean. The room was clean, the bedding free of infestations, and their room had a small window to let in the day's light as well as air. The common area however was nicer than many the older mage had been in. True, it was all faded and worn with time but the sturdy wooden furnishings and sun bleached rugs were as such thanks to the multitude of windows that dotted up high in the common area. The cost of such glass certainly had been a princely sum back when built, and now the lower areas were wooden slat windows perhaps broken in various skirmishes from patrons or rowdy youths throwing things. Mayhaps even removed and sold at some point. The stories to be told in the bones of such buildings always left Wynne's mind wondering. After all, look at what tales she could tell before and now she held a second passenger as Faith kept her heart beating. Through her eyes they both sought out curiosities in their surroundings, sharing the wonder and pleasure in such common moments.

  
All in all, it made for a very pleasant location to break their fast come the first meal of the day. Wynne had noticed the rather bleary eyed expressions on both Zevran and her apprentice that morning, for all that Saeris did her best to hide it swiftly. Chuckling at the tell tale whisper of healing magic that sang along Wynne's senses she hummed softly to herself over a cup of tea. As though in her years Wynne had never seen the healing of a hangover! Morrigan was off perusing the market once more, Zevran had begged away for himself insisting he was just to gather information but the strange expression to his features made Wynne ever so curious as to what that scamp had been up to. Saeris _seemed_ at ease. Wynne had taught the girl for years however, and the tells were there to be read most easily on the otherwise serene seeming red head. Her heart was heavy and there were no more distractions from the loss to come. Twice already Saeris had knocked things over, her hands shaking and splashing water and tea upon the table as her eyes seemed to struggle to focus. Any moment now the mentor the girl had before Wynne met her back in the tower may perish and that soft insistence of the spirit of Faith along her heart seemed to thrumm in a way that suggested they needed time away from the city. Perhaps where the blight had not yet gone and fully started to reach through the landscape outside the walls. A swift walk for the day.

 

How fascinating it was to have that same calming prescence always there in the Fade now along her own heart and mind, coursing in her veins and hinting at what it wished her to do. Well, her spirit friend surely had even more experience with guiding others considering the gap in age they held and if it wished her to take her young apprentice -their young apprentice? Yes, she had the feeling Faith was taking that role with her and felt the same as they shared the body- out to grieve. It was a good idea.

 

“Saeris. I think we had best go gather herbs.” Wynne issued the soft command and noticed the bob of the younger's head in response though the eyes did not sharpen in clarity. Shapeshifting was not an art that Wynne was familiar with, indeed it was frowned upon by many in the circle for the fact it could skew the rational mind of a human or elf towards something much more dangerous and peculiar. Yet, most who chose such a path did not cleave to only one other form and if anything the choice of such a loyal creature as her other skin had only done good for the girl. Obedient she had always been, at least outwardly in appearances, and now having taken the younger mage in as her apprentice there was a level of loyalty and trust beginning to unfurl that always felt so bittersweet to Wynne. Remembering her first apprentice whom she had failed.

 

So no, Wynne would not judge Saeris the magics that called to her especially in these most deadly of moments with the Blight and horrors coming to them. Perhaps it was fated after all, she was of Chasind stock, the wilderness was in her very nature. And if the knowledge of a soon to perish mentor caused Saeris's heart to bleed in agony, Wynne knew the loss herself from the other side and would do what she could to ease the pain. They were not disturbed as the two at either end of their magical studies, one newly still graduated in name for all she'd passed her harrowing years ago and the other a senior enchanter passed through the gates once more. Considering only Wynne had a staff though, the white haired mage quirked her lips at the most likely reason the guards did not even give them a glance.

 

“Hm, I have a walking staff, women often wear robes such as ours..we must look a doting grandmother and her recalcitrant granddaughter out to forage for the stew pot.” Wynne let her dry tone do the work and felt entirely pleased as a bark of startled laughter pulled free from Saeris.

 

“Were knitting needles your only weapon, I think even the darkspawn would flee in terror.” The response was rough and clearly pulled from a throat clogged with grief but still _there._

 

“You're not too old for me to put over my knee girl.” Wynne smirked teasingly and shook her staff in imitation of a wizened old one threatening a disobedient neighbor brat who kept stealing their tomatoes from the porch garden.

 

A dancing pair of citrine eyes met Wynne's own and flared nostrils betrayed the laugh the younger girl was holding back.

 

“You sure that wouldn't shatter your hip?”

 

Such idle banter followed them as Wynne moved away from the common trails into sun dappled grass with trees in the distance. Fields instead of forests, but these were ones that laid fallow for a time to recoup after periods of harvest. They would have privacy out here. Elfroot did grow in the area, and a few other herbs they found useful, each pausing time to time to wriggle one's stubborn roots from the ground.

 

“Ah, I do believe this is far enough.” Wynne stated as she turned, her eyes and senses, that of her passenger also stretched out to test the area. Yes, safe and far to the point that if screams or sobs emerged none would be passing to hear. Dangerous, considering the dark spawn but Wynne felt confident that she could handle that. A few glyph wards would do much of the work for them and whilst she had not felt the need to share her ability, well it seemed Faith could tell when darkspawn were present. There was no reason to further alarm the others with knowledge that spirits were so much _more_ than was thought. Gracefully enough despite her age, Wynne sat down and patted her side along the earth. When Saeris joined her with far less caution, all but flopping herself down as if she was wrapped in her fur hide again, Wynne then tugged the girl closer. With little work she had Saeris positioned so her head was in her lap, fingers working through the unadorned copper hued hair. “You needn't hide your grief from me.”

 

She'd witnessed the paling skin, the wide eyes and trembling lips. How Saeris as they were on the way to their current location clutched at her heart and choked back a sob before falling silent the rest of the way. No banter or teasing remarks could seem to pull a sound from the girl even now abusing her lip as she bit it hard to keep back the sounds that made her form shake as she held them within.

 

“Saeris, child, you needn't say a word. Just grieve. I'll watch over you. You're safe here.” Because the young woman didn't need to be judged or coached on how 'she'd get over it in time' you didn't. You became used to the gnawing loss but it was never easier. Wynne could feel against her thighs the exact moment Saeris leapt forward to trust her as the shaking turned violent and her face twisted into the fabric of Wynne's robe to muffle the keening sobs torn from her lungs. It was not a pretty sound, hysterical loss and grief that hollowed you out never was. With the wild howls of a dog at times overlapping it became eerie.

 

Wynne didn't say anything, just kept running her fingers through the soft hair currently loose to help hide Saeris's features. A quiet watch guard as her apprentice fell to pieces. The level of trust made Wynne blink back her own tears.

 

Eventually, Saeris was emptied, could not cry even once more, her sobs having become heaving breaths and slowly evening as the exhausted mage fell asleep.

 

Wynne just smiled sadly. Until her apprentice woke, Wynne would ensure that she had these few moments to grieve. She could do that for her.

 

Faith and Wynne would make certain she had at least a little time.

()()()()()()()()

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Faith had been around far longer than most of it's kindred. While such emotions such as curiosity, patience, pride, desire were more common, pure faith in vast enough quantities to help create and then sustain a spirit was far more rare. In time with the passages into belief for various deities and myths it would work as a sort of growth spurt for any of the spirits beginnings to associate with such things. However the chasms of doubt would often undo such. So Faith rarely became others, mentored far too few of it's own kind as not many could grow it's core enough to branch out new ones from either a very ancient spirit or a particularly determined wisp that had access to enough belief to make the leap into a greater spirit form.

 

However, this expanse of time and experience meant Faith was hardly stranger to mentoring spirits that had communed too closely with the mortals and was awaiting the form of it's newest unexpected charge. Calmly, contently, it watched once more surrounded in the green hues, easily aware while Wynne was awake. Small thing it was to divide it's presence into the body it currently kept alive and to be present in the Fade. Faith felt it could, so naturally there was no reason it could not be in both locations at the same time. After all the physical location was overlapping and whatever spirit governed this aspect of the Fade had sensed the keening grief of the young one and understood that there was a harsh lesson to be passed along. The number of wisps in this location was slightly worrisome, for the size of Denerim nearby it seemed that there was little potential to help the infant spirits branch out into something more. The emotions and actions of those within the city too muddled to be of much use.

 

But in a spirit's grief there were so _many_ emotions and felt very strongly. All the more so because it could be used to teach the little curious wisps the dangers of brushing against mortals.

 

It always occurred, eventually.

 

There was a keening whine, soft howling lament of loss before there it was. The figure of the massive hound with the undulations to it's form rippling out in the light that made up their bodies here. What the mortals had for tears, spirits had in rippling light that shimmered just so, tendrils of grief and agony branching out in fashion more like the disruption of breath on a cold day. Faith could tell easily from the pattern and undulations, the fluctuating light show just how utterly devastated the young soul was. If she had been screaming and hysterical in her tears in her mortal body by comparison the unhidden loss on display was one that would have broken a lesser soul. More, she was strong enough to not feel the need to hide how she felt, understanding that even in this agony she could help the others of the Fade.

 

“You touched.” Faith explained softly, watching as the hound pulled it's legs up to it's chest. At the soft sensation of an echo around them, the awareness that betrayed the many watching from the governing spirit to a multitude of wisps drawn to the emotional and mental output of the youngling Faith let it's own light soften to show understanding and hopefully help soothe the ache that would be permeating her being.

 

“..once.”

 

“With a mortal in such contact a bond is created. It is not like with us.” Faith explained softly, having given this same talk many a time. Normally it did not need to be voiced but some of the young spirits hovering hidden in the ripples and folds of the Fade around them would be able to eavesdrop and learn if Faith did so, and not all of them were versed in light and fluctuating displays of form yet. The tilt of the head to the Twiceblooded encouraged Faith to explain.

 

“You touched spirit to mortal soul with this one you felt the loss of? They do not think, they do not experience as we do. The gestaltic merge is unknown to their beings and so it is a singular exchange. We put a little of ourselves to rest in their light and none is given back, not even just the temporary shift of displaced energy that occurs in elder to younger spirits. When it returns upon their perishing from the mortal realm it snaps back into place and the sudden surge of loss, the sensation of no longer being able to _feel_ is entirely our burden. There has been no like gift of them to let us sense how they have grown and stretched what we left with them so it comes back in a shock. You must be careful, sometimes it has snuffed out the light of those not prepared for the influx.”

 

A rapid surge in the light as Twiceblooded balked, vanished, reformed this time entirely massive. Electric patterns rippling along choice areas of it's fur that would be discernible only to those who did not rely on sight to see the forms in curves and scars. A demand for explanation in wordless form so stunned had Faith left Twiceblooded. Yes. Faith inclined it's currently humanoid head, resembling Wynne greatly for it was sharing her body and keeping her alive, so it was an easy garb to model itself after. The shifting of Faith's own light reminded Twiceblooded that while they _knew_ it was truly the mortal it lived as, an anomaly in and of itself, it was also spirit trained and thus they considered it as they did.

 

“They do not think as we do.” Faith coached softly. “In a place where belief is everything, where as Faith..” The spirit trailed off because it did not wish to brag. It was not in it's nature, but indeed the spirits of Faith were some of the most powerful here in the Fade. Belief was _everything_ to them. What you believed became real and so rare were those mortals who could draw them tightly and succor their natures to grow and expand. Wynne was a rare treasure the likes of which Faith had only witnessed a scant handful of times since Thedas had begun to have sentient lifeforms that were bound to mortal bodies.

 

Twiceblooded's head lowered, understanding.

 

“They cannot understand our thoughts, we cannot understand theirs. Not truly, instinctively. When we merge it is to share, to grow, to _be_ more. To give or exchange is the entire point for us, they keep and do not reciprocate.”

 

Indeed proving Faith's words a number of little wisps had continued to draw closer, eager to tap into the loss and heartache that Twiceblooded was broadcasting without reserve. It was an experience, something new for them.

 

“Share.” Faith advised softly.

 

“Does it get easier?” Twiceblooded asked in response, head lifting, eyes aglow and vibrant and Faith allowed it's own light form to undulate in mockery of a smile. So eager to learn this youngling was, so trusting. Faith was currently enjoying the sharing even though they stood a ways apart of their mingling lights as Twicebloooded's aura tentatively nudged against it's own. That of a younger spirit seeking guidance from one it saw as mentor. So, Faith was content. Twiceblooded saw no true separation from Wynne the mentor and Faith, only that each could offer different information. Indeed considering that Faith was keeping Wynne alive through an extreme melding of their two existences that would eventually be impossible for Wynne to keep up with without being destroyed in the process, it was the correct idea. Faith had no doubt that Twiceblooded had even guessed Faith was nurturing Wynne in the process to see if she could not become a lesser spirit herself when the time came for her moral body to cease breathing. Wynne was ever so bright a soul that she had the potential to become a spirit of Faith herself.

 

“To share with a mortal? No. But the pain, the wrenching devastation and that little part of yourself you shall lose?” Faith allowed it's light to dim, to flicker inward in a show that would have been a heavy sigh in Wynne's body. Perhaps even a look of both dejection and resigned adoration. “What one _gains_ , young one, helps you grow.”

 

Spirits knew that there was no lesson, or emotion, that was not needed. For those not prepared to cleave to a singular aspect it was all the more important they experience all they could for they were like the hunters bringing home sustenance for the little ones.

 

Understanding the suggestion Twiceblooded stretched out upon the ground and with the barest twitch of light off it's form acquiesced to the eager wisps about them. Excitedly they began to bounce off it's form, some colliding harder than others, some repeatedly, experiencing and sharing in the grief. Snatching at parts of the memories and emotions and both lessening and deepening the agony felt in the process. Not that Twiceblooded would scold them to be so excited about her suffering.

 

It was something _new_ after all.

 

()()()()()()()()

 

Cloaked in the Fade as he was, Solas had chosen to observe the spirits communing together. While he often observed from a closer role there were times in order to learn the most about those whom would later become his friends that Solas had learned simply watching could help with his understanding. Certainly it was not the first time he'd witnessed an older spirit explaining to a younger one about the dangerous act of getting too attached to a mortal but he'd never seen one be warned away from the rare sharing he had come to treasure so greatly. It made far more sense now though, why it was something those older spirits he had known millenia were even now wary of initiating such contact. Even Wisdom had yet to brush 'hand' to his own often and he'd known that spirit since he was a boy. There had been a few more rash ones, including one of Pride and another of Mischief that had not been so recalcitrant. He had no idea the severing of such an event even long after the contact, could cause the spirit distress however.

 

Quietly, Solas watched as over and over again curious wisps approached and then bombarded the prone form of the Twiceblooded hound, reminding him immensely of puppies crawling over a resigned elder canine stuck with the duty of being chewtoy and amusement both.

 

Leaning on his staff the former 'god' to the Elves felt himself for the first time wondering just how many of the schemes he and his fellows had hatched over the years that had caused those truly loyal to them such acute distress. Even knowing Flemeth was to live, perhaps even able to sense it in some small way if the 'death' had caused seeming agony, Twiceblooded seemed as listless and stricken as if it was a death sentence upon itself.

 

His own recent actions with Felessan made him pause. He'd threatened the male to go out and find one of the mirrors. Fully intending to take him to task or simply end him if he failed. Yet.

 

Yet.

 

Perhaps it was not the best of plans, Solas would have to wait and see. For now he wondered if approaching Twiceblooded at this point would even be welcomed?

 

Faith however, was a far more ancient spirit than Solas was usually given the pleasure of interacting with, indeed considering that he had inspired such emotions in others it was one of the few he often felt peculiar approaching. That said, Faith had clearly been aware of his interloping presence and lifted an arm, gesturing for him to come near.

 

Hesitant was hardly a word one would use upon one bearing the name of 'Pride' and so he did not wait to do as bidden.

 

The wisdom in such an action revealed almost immediately as Twiceblooded's head rose from where it had been upon it's paws while the wisps all but bounced off it's hide, ears perked up and light crackling once more like lightning instead of wilting leaves. For all that the 'language' of spirits was one he still struggled to understand there was no mistaking the hounds body language nor the sound to the echoing call when she caught sight of him.

 

“Solas!”

 

The sheer pleasure overlaying his name made Solas smile widely, touched. “Hello, my friend. I hope I am not intruding?”

 

Curiously enough some of the wisps seemed to shake about agitated, but clearly just as interested in circling around him to sate their wonder at the presence of the Fade mage.

 

“The lesson is one that takes time to sink in.” Faith answered calmly. There were no introductions, it was not often the way of such beings to need them.

 

“You are well?” Solas asked, feeling a trifle awkward considering he had heard everything. Standing with a great shake sending wisps flying, and in their brightness he could only surmise it was like children's excited squeals at the action, Twiceblooded bobbed her head.

 

“Growth is rarely pleasant.” Her form dispersed then, with a particularly energetic bombardment from several wisps and they all reformed with the wisps a trifle larger, the ears and tail of the hound displaying good natured annoyance at the infantile spirits. “These ones are aiding in the pain however, hungry as they are for something new.”

 

“Indeed, I've heard and witnessed such before but they do seem most determined.” Solas teased slightly, amused at seeing the insistent nature of the generally placid and curious tiny forms bombarding constantly. “Certainly grief cannot be so unusual for them?”

 

“It's the fact it was born from contact rebounding upon a form perishing that had shared communion.” Came the gentle explanation from Faith. “Due to the experience being so rare and not one we suggest for the littler spirits this is the only way many will ever know of it for a few millenia at the least. Twiceblooded may expect to have such an encounter regardless of where in the fade it is for a time.”

 

“It does not then cause such complications to have contact with other spirits?” Solas queried thoughtfully as he watched the admittedly quick contact from small young spirit to hound shaped young spirit.

 

Unknown to Solas the flickering of light just below the main visible spectrum between Faith and Twiceblooded betrayed their amusement. It did not occur to them that he simply _did not know_ the truth of Twiceblooded's nature. To them it was not of importance. And indeed because Twiceblooded was mortal having such contact as she was and so regularly with the wisps and other spirits to share her experiences may indeed have caused them likewise such harm if she had thought as a mortal inside the Fade. Quite simply, she did not. Had been taught as one would in a foreign tongue from such a young age her mindset in the Fade was utterly that of a spirit and it changed everything about the interactions. Giving only instead of taking, as was taught in how to handle those younger. Because she was given from Faith and Valor, Curiosity, Patience, and others older than Saeris was, she likewise only gave when handling 'younger' spirits for all they may have centuries on her, the slight energy they left behind when making room for what she passed on no more than a puff of air from breathing out against the skin of one beside you stirring the currents. It side stepped the problem that could have formed upon her eventual passing.

 

“Much of it has to do with thought.” Twiceblooded finally twisted her own ideas into words that perhaps would make sense to the ancient elf. “Our thoughts form patterns which shape the Fade and our way of directing it, it would be like...like if one cast fire spells with a way meant to call on ice.”

 

“Nothing would occur, the methods are so different that..” Solas began to lecture before trailing off, brows furrowed and he tapped at his lips. “I see. Not quite, but enough that I think I can begin to grasp at what you mean. So the very way you..perceive..your exchange changes the outcome?”

 

“Quite.” Faith interjected in an amused tone, privately marveling that the elf before her was one of the 'lords' of the Fade amongst mortals and yet his understanding in many aspects of it was younger than that of a mere mortal child currently in the spirit body resembling a hound. Faith considered itself very fortunate to be able to help teach the strange mortal that wasn't, a unique chance to see if a Fade walker could bridge the gap because they had been taught the Fade from an early enough years by spirits themselves instead of relying on their own interpretations and misconceptions brought on by others. The simple fact that Twiceblooded clearly did not think of itself in either a gendered fashion or indeed the mortal shape it had been born in while here bore out much of that early teaching. Those were things of a body, of thoughts upon a body and interactions that had to do more with biology than nature. Gender was a concept for procreational purposes, to asexual beings what one liked and did for self expression was just that. Indeed Faith had even met a few spirits that chose peculiar colors and vibrations to their lights because it was what pleased them.

 

Gender itself was still a concept that baffled most spirits, the idea that so much of ones existence could be taken up in a matter of chance and trying to fight or quash ones nature to fit ideals made no sense to beings who most often in betraying their natures would become demons. You were as you were, simple as that.

 

Mortals did make things so complex.

 

Faith noticed the flare of Twiceblooded's light, rippling and undulating in laughter tinged a soft indigo like crackling lightning and flickered it's own back in cerulean amusement. Yes, of course the hound picked up on all of that. Thoughts were always on display if you knew how to read their nonverbal communication.

 

/It still confuses my mortal friends that I am hound and woman./ Saeris agreed in a method that seemed as if she'd submerged underwater. Faith just flickered briefly in agreement. Faith had observed that even in Wynne, as if the idea Saeris was Twiceblooded and vice versa was somehow not just a change of skins and growth of being, but as if the two forms should be different in some way. Such a peculiar thought.

 

“I'm clearly missing out on something.” Solas drawled good naturedly and Twiceblooded barked in laughter, pawing at one ear for a moment before sitting down. Perhaps in deference to their guest she actually sat upon the ground instead of just drawing her paws up to her.

 

“Commentary on the bemusement spirits have for genders.”

 

A startled sound emerged from Solas then as he covered his mouth, the dancing light of his eyes giving away his mirth. “I did always notice that seemed to stymie all those I was familiar with regardless of if they chose to take on an elvhen like form. Wisdom in particular could not seem to grasp the differences in pronouns.”

 

“Wisdom?” Twiceblooded cocked her head curiously. “Was that your first?”

 

“My..first?” Solas asked and there was a faintly baffled expression to him, one that Saeris guessed meant he was not understanding the question in the slightest. Briefly it made her ears flatten backwards in annoyance. Of course, she finally has a friend to talk to who likes spirits as she does and she still can't seem to make any sense of their talks sometimes.

 

“Your first spirit mentor.”

 

Solas's head dipped slightly. “Well yes, I've met many spirits since and they have been friends and guides but I have the sensation it meant more to you?”

 

“Curiosity was my first. Teaching me what I was observing and how to handle such. Patience helped.” Saeris agreed. “Without them I likely would have been lost in the Fade, stumbling worse than I do now”

 

“How could you be lost in the Fade?” Solas's brow was deeply furrowed now. “I imagine it couldn't..well, to be truthful I've yet to meet a spirit that was walking in the mortal realm so young..”

 

“I started out there.” Twiceblooded answered truthfully, and felt Faith all but inwardly convulsing in laughter that was on the ultra violet spectrum of light and completely unnoticed by the ancient elf in their midst. Spirit humor. Unbelievable truths stated blandly tended to be overlooked by those mortals trying to over complicate things. Twiceblooded rarely had the chance to use such sarcasm herself.

 

The absolute pallor that overtook Solas's face was rather interesting. Saeris flickered her own light in a question at Faith, still bombarded as she was by wisps it wasn't worth manifesting the energy to make it on a visible spectrum. /Did I break him?/

 

/No. Mortals just get wrapped up in their preconceived notions. Likely he's imagining you being formed from some heinous art or death of a greater spirit or demon./

 

/Like breaking a mirror.../ Saeris agreed in thought. It was very rare, but energy did not just vanish and so if a larger spirit or demon was destroyed instead of just returned to the Fade it often created smaller beings in light ripples. Most would hurriedly find their way to cross over but sometimes they were trapped or died out, sinking their magics deep within the area around them. It made her cant her head then at Faith, waiting for Solas to overcome whatever inner turmoil he was creating for himself.

 

/Is that why I struggled so after the death of the Lady of the Forest?/

 

“Yes. You believed, and you loved no less fiercely for it's brevity. When she shattered and most the energy from her and the keeper went to obliterating the curse and reverting it to those whom still lived a large portion went into you. Much of Witherfang.” Faith knew that deep down Saeris had likely suspected as much. And Faith was admittedly enjoying tweaking the ancient elf -still such a child in comparison to it's own existence- and watching him go even paler, startled as it responded aloud. Wynne was most definitely having some influence on Faith it seemed, this teasing of the young ones was new. Certainly not unpleasant.

 

“That explains it.” Twiceblooded accepted calmly, after all it was done, but Solas it seemed was not adjusting to the revelation well.

 

“You are not suffering any ill effects?” Indeed the way his hands gripped his staff it seemed otherwise he was worried enough to have the urge to pat down the large hound and check it over. Faith hadn't been so amused in a while.

 

“Mostly my temper had increased, I was a little unstable for a time.” Twiceblooded admitted, not seeing a reason as to why it seemed to be troubling Solas so. The concept of her turning more into a demon from the influx of such an old spirit that had been greatly twisted in a concept of vengeance and ruthless behavior never factored into Saeris's mind. “Flemeth helped settle me and the rest will just take time as it was growth that I have yet to assimilate properly.” She wasn't strong enough yet, for whatever the Lady had left her would doubtless emerge later even before factoring the death of the ancient spirit into matters.

 

“Should you start to feel unstable again..” Solas began and there was such a deep resonance to his voice that made all the spirits perk up and pay attention. This was the power of a great Fade Mage, a dreamer from Arlathan could not only traverse and control the Fade to great effects but command all but the greatest of spirits. All without forcing his will upon them. Part of the immense respect was because the spirits sought to avoid if it became a matter of an angered and ruthless lord of the Fade deciding to assert control rather than wandering. It had been a great problem in eons long over. Even just in ensuring Twiceblooded was listening and would remember it was effecting all the spirits around them. Much to Solas's annoyance it only had seemed to catch it's attention not have it so riveted as even the wisps about were holding utterly still and Faith had ceased flickering in it's light.

 

Cheeky young thing. Stubborn too.

 

“Seek me out. Immediately. Even if it seems a small thing, but a moment's lapse. I will not lose you.” Solas insisted and there was none of the kind friend but more a stern mentor, one who had been general and king, and likened to a God amongst his people. He would not lose this strange bright spirit that made him forget the worst of things past and yet to come simply because it did not think to seek out one who could help ground it from twisting -forcibly if need be- certainly Solas had helped keep spirits from becoming demons in their moments of weakness many times in the past.

 

Twiceblooded let out a soft whine, tongue out in a canine smile as slowly the tail began to wag. “All right, Solas. I promise if I'm upset I'll come complain to you.”

 

“That's not what I..” Solas groaned, running a hand over his face before looking at her with exasperated annoyance. “Little brat.” He muttered in fondness however, relieved that if only briefly it seemed he had helped distract the bright soul from grief and gotten a promise of more time together in the process. Not to mention all he heard learned on spirit and mortal interaction this time around was far more complex than he had surmised. It was entirely fascinating.

 

“What have you been up to?” Solas asked, changing the conversation as he leaned upon his staff. “You're awake a great deal of the time.”

 

“Well..” Saeris began and then in amusement, started to explain in canine fashion all the scents and sights of Denerim and trying to keep her assassin out of trouble. At some point Solas formed a chair to sit upon that was indeed far more like a throne, and did not bother hiding his laughter at her retelling of running around back and forth with fools errands, often peppered with the witty banter of the group she was with.

 

Faith settled back to observe, highly entertained at the way Saeris told about everyone save herself, and the relaxed set to the face and form of Solas as he listened. It was not so unlike thousands of years prior to see Fen'Harel in his throne with a wolf at his feet, if he had not been _talking_ with it then. The spirit governing the area pressed close, staying on the light spectrum mortal eyes -or mortal thinking eyes- could not see. It was a very immense and old spirit in golden armor too large and ornate for a living being to have carried. No communication was needed for them to share in the amusement of watching two Dreamer mages, one ancient and the other but a youth with entirely opposite ways of approaching and handling the Fade sharing stories like children. Because of course Solas had to share his own commiseration of ancient comrades who had caused no end of mischief..if mostly ones he had set up admittedly.

 

Around them, the wisps continued to bombard Twiceblooded contently.

 


	14. Chapter 14

AN: It's one o clock in the morning and I can't sleep. Again. So here we go.

()()()()()()()()

 

The group that had set off to kill Flemeth returned only a few days after Saeris's breakdown in the field with a gently understanding Wynne. Thanks to Wynne, Faith, and Solas, Saeris had managed the interim gracefully enough if seeming rather exhausted in many ways. Solas especially had some coping methods to pass on that Saeris did not wish to ask too deeply on, because of how effective they had been it broke her heart to know a friend of hers had to learn them the hard way. Likely many times over, no, she had no desire to reopen old wounds. Instead she happily remained furred for a while and with Barkspawn trotted after the various members of the remaining two legged trio as they found ways to occupy their time. However when the group lead by Surana returned they were certainly not without spoils. Nor they did not set foot in Denerim alone partially explaining the delay in joining with the others once again. Hulking along behind them was a massive creature of a Golem bedecked in tiny crystals towering over even Sten. To Saeris's senses, and those doubtless of the other mages present, the golem sang of magic. Drawing as much attention as it did though it was decided most would prepare to move on to Orzammar. Surana and Alistair had a few old problems to sort out before they moved along but the others could begin the trek. There was a necessary side trip needed to find the Ashes of Andraste as well and it was figured upon to be best to split up. There was also a few other small items to tend to that amounted to mostly more running errands between locations so the party easily divided itself.

 

Going to handle the Ashes were Sten, Shale, Saeris, Zevran and Leliana. Originally Leliana had not been included but as the arguably most faithful amongst them, none could fault her desire to go. With Wynne just behind her but more concerned about the time and events that had taken place for Surana, and trusting Saeris was pulled together enough she could dote on her other charge, it was an easy division. Though there was a trifle of concern over whom amongst the second group venturing straight into Orzammar would handle traps or any potential treasure locked away they found, it was shrugged off easily enough. Wynne, Morrigan, and Alistair would set out before long to Orzanmar with Surana. Barkspawn of course had sided with following Surana as faithfully loyal to the elven mage as he had been since his rescue. Imprinting was no small joke and more than once Alistair had since made a joke about Saeris's own susceptibility to it considering her other form. Taking a reference from Morrigan and Surana both in their own way, Saeris had promptly either bitten if furred or flung a lightning bolt in his direction to silence the Bastard prince. Allies they may be but friends and even happy comrades was entirely up for debate. The group spent only a short time meeting together over the campsite and despite all that had happened, most chose to act as if there had been no difference between the quest. Indeed, instead the group spoke of Honleath and finding Shale. The skill it took to solve puzzles and outwit a demon determined to possess a young girl.

 

Of the actual slaughter of the witch of the Wilds turning into a dragon there was no mention. At least not for a time.

 

Leliana quietly pulled Saeris aside to hand over the staff and strange story book both. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, ma petite soeur, nor will I seek it. But I hope..that these bring you some comfort.”

 

Leliana half expected to have the items thrown in her face and would have not judged her fellow red haired woman for such an action. Instead, the book was turned over gently before being opened. The fables looked at, a few pages turned before it was clutched tightly to her breast. Saeris's citrine eyes met Leliana's own.

 

“It hurts, ainée. I loved her. She was another mamae and yet not..perhaps..grandmother?” Saeris shook her head then and gave a shaking sigh, fingers digging in tightly to the book. Her mind even when awake did not think in the channels and ways that most could understand. If it was not related to the way spirits thought then it was now heavily tempered in the methods of the more canine variety and that did not even begin to account for her magical heritage or the Chasind and Dalish. Yes, Saeris could freely admit she was a mess. “Yet I _adore_ Morrigan for all she'd attack me viciously if she heard such voiced. I love _you_ as if we shared blood and flesh instead of just a coloration atop our heads. Give me time.” Even to Leliana she did not think she could explain the almost senseless devotion she felt, still felt, to Flemeth. The sensation of her regard being worth every beat of her heart. The thought of the old crone composing the book now clutched to her breast almost robbing the elf blooded of every scrap of oxygen in her lungs. The sheer magnitude of her gift, one to explain as best as she could in riddles and stories the nature of her abilities had she a proper Dreamer mage tutor? It was such a shame she did not feel she could confess her duality to Solas, but if the spirits had thought that the ancient elf would regard her the same or better they would have told her as much by now. Instead they continued to not speak without a direct question, which was yet to come up, on Twiceblooded's nature. No, the potential sole teachings Saeris would achieve in many years to come was now held to her breast as something so dear to her almost as her Werewolf skin cloak she had earned by ripping apart the beast with her bare jaws whilst fighting off the pain of her curse. This was no small matter.

 

All that said, she did love Morrigan. Her sister, her rival, her counterpart. She hated her just as much for needing Flemeth's death to live safely and securely yet Saeris would not have given up her own existence for Flemeth either. Sadly, the truth of matters was rarely cut and dried, almost never so simple. It was muddied and completely without sense but with a harsh breath out she could admit that ever would so things remain considering the nature of elves, humans, dwarves..perhaps even spirits. Life was not a simple matter.

 

“It will never be as it was.” Leliana agreed and hesitantly reached out but she needn’t have worried as Saeris stepped into the embrace, book still tightly held to her front as Leliana's arms came around her, staff off to the side awaiting it's own gifting. “I regret causing you pain my dearest friend, but I do not for a moment lament protecting one of our own.”

 

“And that is why I cannot fault you though my heart bleeds.” Saeris agreed, tucking her face against Leliana's shoulder and breathing in. The scents that made up Leliana were ones she had missed. All humans and elves had a certain mixture of pheromones and sweat that identified them. Andraste's grace was headily overlaying Leliana's natural scent. Indeed since Surana had founded a bundle of the native flower in Redcliffe and gifted them to the bard she had yet to shed the tiny dried bouquet and it now colored all she wore.

 

There would be no true anger beyond the feeling of betrayal towards Leliana. A lot more wariness as to where she fit in the hierarchy of her sister in coloration perhaps, but not anger. Saeris understood loyalty. Since coming into her second skin indeed how could she not? The dog that she became, Twiceblooded, knew only the thoughts and actions of such a creature and loyalty was in the blood and the bone. Faith and it's encouragement had finally helped Saeris grieve, and Solas had been a bastion of strength and understanding. Thanks to them she could breathe in Leliana's scent and relax in her hold and while it hurt, stung like the burn of the werewolf curse coursing through her veins, she could not _hate_ her heart's sister. Never truly forget what levels of betrayal she was capable of if she felt it best perhaps, but not hate. If only for that buried deep in Saeris's mind was the truth that Flemeth would live on in a way. A secret she was committing betrayal to Morrigan over for not only having warned the ancient witch but not telling Morrigan that perhaps her mother was not so dead as she thought. Solas had spent many an hour the past few nights assuring Saeris she was not wrong to keep such from them, though he had seemed baffled as to how she would pass it on. Perhaps through Faith had been the conclusion he had finally voiced and Saeris did not bother to correct him. Truly, she chalked it up to his being an ancient male and perhaps over time his memories had started to slip.

 

Genuinely it never occurred to her that Solas did not realize she was an elfblooded human with far more of the nature of her elvhen heritage and not an actual spirit. Nor would it truthfully occur as such to a single spirit she was so entwined with as they had shaped her thoughts and in the Fade, what you thought, believed, felt to be real _was._ In the Fade she was a spirit for she imposed none of the limitations upon herself a mortal would. Even a vastly powerful mortal would still never regularly turn the laws of physical form upon the metaphorical rocks to shatter them into possibility and potential. Every time Saeris took the form of her Twiceblooded self, formed and reformed, denied gravity and hundreds upon thousands of other small actions she thought of as completely natural amongst the Fade she proved her almost inhuman, non elvhen existence when in the Fade. In short she _was_ a spirit when asleep and herself when awake as far as it mattered. A matter reinforced when in the waking world she found herself wishing in the deepest recess of her mind to be capable of the sort of things she was when asleep, handily rendering such beliefs impossible with the wishing instead of believing.

 

Leliana's lyrical voice shattered through Saeris's reflections. “I saw the staff..I knew yours had broken. Perhaps it is a silly girlish thing but I saw the teeth and it made me think, they belong to a canine and you are one..mayhaps it is too macabre..”

 

“It's perfect.” Saeris admitted for all she had yet to either touch or channel magic through the staff, it after all had been Flemeth's and for that alone Saeris would treasure it, and looked up, chuckling at the beaming smile that stretched across Leliana's face.

 

“Well. We'll not be going back into town so lets make you look more yourself, no? May I draw your markings upon you?”

 

“Only if you ask Zevran to braid my hair for me.” Saeris asked and in doing so watched Leliana's face make a surprised little O of understanding. That Zevran was now family and kin to Saeris. In a way that despite her love and loyalty to Surana he was not. She looked like Leliana in their hair but Zevran had a Dalish mother and just as much as Leliana had gone out of his way to help her, to be there for her. That way of thinking she had that was influenced by her hound form was strongly insistent that they were both pack of the family sort.

 

“Well perhaps his fingers are good at something. For most certainly by the Maker's grace tis not locks!” Leliana winked and pulling free a laugh from her fellow red head smiled. Leliana's eyes met with Morrigan's across the way, the witch having been clutching at Flemeth's grimoire once Surana had given it to her. Ever so slightly Leliana nodded.

 

Perhaps it wasn't going to be as it was, but yes, their hound was forgiving them. Morrigan's shoulder's eased with the last of her worries and instead she turned those amber eyes upon Surana once more to tease their warden. If her voice was more filled with softness and wonder that the young elfin mage had done as asked and above and beyond, protecting Morrigan in the process, none would tease the two. At least not now, later was fair game enough when emotions were less volatile.

 

Zevran had taken Leliana's command to come and handle Saeris's hair with a great deal of grace. For the first time Leliana observed gentleness to the Antivan as he deftly wove the strands in with the beads and bone, the feathers and fur in intricate patterns as though the one they were attached to was spun glass. Just as carefully Leliana trailed the kohl over cheeks and eyes, the paper with the slightly more intricate forms spread out on the ground near her and held down with rocks.

 

In their own way the larger group of the Warden's and their companions was slowly becoming two separate groups while all the stronger for the whole. The one that clung to the Warden with fervor, and the one that was creating a tight family all their own. Or as Zevran mused, much as Saeris had emphatically explained to him one night with wine in their blood. Different sorts of pack. The only one who comfortably straddled the two surprisingly seemed to be Morrigan and Wynne. Mate and Mama figure to the young Warden coming into his own. How...

 

curiously unexpected.

 

And yet perfect at the same time.

()()()()()()()()

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Considering the occasional stop to battle the ever increasing hordes of darkspawn they were making very fast time. All talk was done along the road with the group unanimously agreeing to press forward until they needed to make camp and rest. This arrangement had been met with the most approval from Sten, Leliana had also remarked that the sooner they moved the sooner this would be done and back together again. Zevran however was the one who could see the best, so he took point when it became too late, Saeris along his side with her own gaze out but mostly using nose and ears to warn of coming danger.

 

At night they slept in the open without tents and only fire she conjured needing less fuel to keep it going after that point. It was a casual trick, a flick of Solas's wrist that had shown it to her. He'd called it Veil Fire when noticing her impressed attention in the Fade. Her elvhen mentor and friend took immense pleasure in sharing his knowledge and though he doubted it would be of any use to the hound he had still gone over the process in great detail, losing himself for a time in his excited ramblings. As it also took exceptionally little effort to light and then kept going for a long while without need for firewood until she was ready to sleep the others became accustomed to the greenish hue swiftly. Though they did learn, it could not be used to cook with or provide heat.

 

She slept so lightly, perhaps a touch too lightly as her senses were the first they'd need to warn them. With the size of their party they could afford to have two on watch, conversing softly or just keeping each other company. Again for his eyes Zevran took two half shifts, the first of the dawn and the first of the night. Saeris was awake for the first, and then stayed up until Leliana was done. The two would retire and Sten would take over. The only one Shale was willing to actually do the watch for at this point. It wasn't that she was cruel, she simply didn't care if the squishy mortals died.

 

Unfortunately it meant no time for lessons, to study the book left to her by Flemeth. Nor sleeping enough to truly explore the Fade. Instead she would slumber and meander in her form keeping her senses tight and her appearance and presence diminished to no more than that of any other common hound spirit in the Fade. It was as much rest as she could get but it made her magic chafe in frustration to be held back so from her nature.

 

None of them were sleeping deeply, not that they dared and excess talking was avoided when on watch to ensure nothing could sneak up on them. The proliferation of their enemies meant it was a valid concern and a few times there was nothing to do but gather their things and move on from a camp site reeking of carrion when they were done.

 

That however, increased vastly the amount of inane conversations when awake and walking. At least for two they often centered around the failings of humans, elves, and Saeris herself.

 

“It is a strange and slobbery beast.” Especially Saeris.

 

A short snort of amusement was the response to Shale as the qunari kept his pace.“Yes.”

 

“It is even stranger when it is human. I didn't think humans could get stranger. Such flappy little things so easily breakable.” One massive arm moved about, flickering her wrist and fingers as though picturing a shattering smaller form.

 

“Agreed.”

 

“What use does it have? It carries a staff. Is it a mage? Ugh. I hate mages.” And for some reason Shale always acted as though she did not _know_ Saeris was a mage. As though attempting to rile her up.

 

A lingering pause before Sten nodded once, eyes never leaving the trail ahead as they began to finally see the mountain they'd be climbing meet the ground. Not far now. “It knows loyalty. Not tamed, but aware of it's place.”

 

“..hmph. Maybe it'll at least chase the pigeons away.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

From where Saeris was walking next to Leliana, Zevran trailing behind them to watch for any dangerous foes in that way, keeping the two range fighters in the middle safely with the lumbering chatty forms of the two warriors ahead, came muffled giggles.

 

“Oh by the maker.” Leliana whispered, hand muffling her giggles as best as she could. “They're..Never have I heard Sten speak so often.”

 

“You think they're flirting?” Saeris asked, rubbing at her nose lightly. Her markings covered eyes and cheeks and chin enough she did not wish to smudge them after all, and though she had this _urge_ to rub her ears she still liked keeping her points hidden. Fortunately for all that Zevran had braided her hair he had only done the back part, Saeris preferred keeping it looser around her face and braided those herself so that even when twirling in battle her ears stayed tucked away. While she trusted, adored, her packmates she did not want that part revealed. Not now.

 

Grimacing, the rogue chantry sister wrinkled her nose at the very idea. “Blessed Andraste..I hope not. If talking about you is flirting..”

 

“Sten thinks of me as a dog and Shale thinks we're all pointless 'fleshies'.” Saeris mumbled as she shrugged to Leliana. “Well they're talking. What else are they going to talk about? Shale's a golem.”

 

“You know..those _muscles you have..._ ” Came from ahead and a strange gravel laugh.

 

Leliana and Saeris made eye contact, both wide and mouths agape.

 

“Oh my.” Leliana choked out as she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

 

From even further back, Zevran's chortling could be over heard. It was a very peculiar trip to Haven indeed. Who knew Golem's could appreciate the aesthetics of a qunari?

 

Only an hour later they finally began to start up the path that would lead them towards Haven. “It would be best if Zevran and I went first, we are the least..worrying. Perhaps, Saeris, you could shift though? I've yet to meet a Fereldan that was not eased to see a dog. If we stay ten minutes apart it should not overwhelm those who live here.” Leliana suggested. A grumbling Shale moved towards the back but no other arguments were made.

 

Once they were ascending however, Sten stopped halfway, growling, frustrated, his hand grasping and releasing the handle of his great sword much the way that Zevran would twirl a knife before deciding if he would let it fly. Saeris had gone behind with the large man in her Twiceblooded guise, letting Leliana speak softly and Zevran work on his charm at the village before the stranger party members arrived. Hopefully her furred presence would temper the outright mistrust most had for his immense frame and demeanor. Shale would be coming up even further behind, but right now Sten had a look of annoyance amongst his features. Whining once did not get the qunari's attentions leaving her little choice but to shift.

 

“Sten?”

 

A growl was her answer before he turned, lips baring teeth in a snarl that was as feral as her own could be. “..Why are we here. What is the point?”

 

Saeris paused, lips pursed. She knew Sten fairly well by now. At least as much as he was likely to let any know him that also carried magic in their nature. They had continued at times the sort of strange standing and twisting movements to help balance her thoughts that he had first taught her and whilst she still fell over more often than not it had been after wards he would sometimes speak at her. Not to her, knowing she would not talk on matters she did not know of.

 

That he was voicing this was different. He was clearly angry. If Surana and Alistair had been here, perhaps even enough he would have attacked.

 

“What would you prefer as our choice of action?” She asked instead. Sten had dropped enough hints, he had been The Sten, it was assuredly not his real name but his title. Such as hers was Twiceblooded, something that when she explained to him had been then aside from 'dog' all he would refer to her as. It was not a lack of friendly interaction either in doing so, Saeris felt more as if it was a constant reaffirmation of what she was. Perhaps it was part of that Qun he quoted to her at times. Being ones title to the point you forsook other names was more an honor than anything to him. But The Sten was a warriors title, though he had not gone into it any further with her. So he before all of this, doubtless had the most experience in battle.

 

A sharp glare over at her, tracing her features slowly but the qunari finally grunted seeing that the dog in witch's form was being serious.

 

“How does this help against the Arch demon? We are delaying confronting it. We should seek it out and end it before it grows stronger. You do not give your enemy time to gather their forces.”

 

“True.” And it was, honestly it was better advice than many would give. Similar to Morrigan's rumbling at the campfire that if they had taken her advice back when this mess started and the lot had been in Lothering long before Saeris had joined them...well killing Loghain may not have helped but it would have removed a troubling obstacle that seemed bent on complicating matters.

 

“You agree?” Sten asked and the furrow to his brow oddly reminded Saeris of Solas, the weight to his gaze then as if a single wrong word would cast aside any positive thoughts gained of her to this point. Never to be redeemed. Implacable. The sort of ally that was either going to destroy the world hunting you down and breaking you apart if you betrayed them, or destroy it further to keep you safe from any who thought to harm you. No wonder her instincts made her still her tongue around the qunari, this was an elder packmate who was _safe_. The most dangerous of all the others, perhaps. Saeris did not think that Sten ever had shown them a fraction of his true capability. Likely as outsiders, never would.

 

But that level of lethality was not unfamiliar to her in Sten, Solas, Flemeth..well so had been Valor in his way, far less so had been Ser Gregoire and all the templars. Saeris liked to think she knew a few things about exceptionally stubborn and difficult people. Of them all only Valor did she not huff at the idea, he was the embodiment of his virtue after all, it could be only expected of the spirit. Though that the spirit she thought rather as a father figure told her if not for the Circle mages needing him to counter the barbaric harrowing he would have been following her to keep watch of his student and further her training. Stars knew with all they had encountered she could have used it, but then would not have had the time to meet with Solas.

 

“I do. If..” Saeris held up her hand and continued, not looking away from Sten's once more furious gaze. He was lethal, deadly, but she remembered the feel of werewolf bones giving way to her jaws and the sense of the storm she'd shattered her staff with. She had been and done things in the slumbering world that would ever be beyond a mortal's comprehension. Jaw tilting up and teeth faintly showing her own eyes sparked with a light of power she did not draw on consciously. Despite the slight show of magic in that, it did not alarm Sten. Not when everything else about the dog in witch form was clearly broadcasting as if she was still fur clad, tail up and hackles raised in warning. She did not attack but nor would she back down. So he waited, listened as she had done to him.

 

“Our Warden's are but puppies. They were not prepared to lead, they are learning, and if they need armies to fight what the Arch demon already has so that our battle with it is not to be interfered with, is that now a fools plan?”

 

Sten let go of his sword as his face fell once more into his perpetual scowl instead of the furious one. Put that way, he did not mind the fact they were gathering lesser warriors. “Hm. Pathetic ones not worthy of bearing arms to handle the mindless masses of darkspawn.”

 

Saeris relaxed, seeing he understood her point. “So that we may focus on the true threat.”

 

“It is still inefficiently handled.” Sten conceded. “This gathering would have taken but the time to send word if the qunari were so affected. The Arishok would have thousands of those loyal marching and worth hundreds of humans each.”

 

“Then when some day there is another Blight no doubt the qunari will showcase just that and all the previous groups can lament their ineffectiveness.” Saeris shrugged. It would not matter to focus on the future, but if it made Sten's shoulder's ease and he snorted, she was willing to go with it. Besides if not for all this foolish fighting and betrayal starting at Ostagar who knew, perhaps all this would be over by now. Perhaps even Surana and Alistair would have perished. This was why she did not fuss over the what if's.

 

“Good dog.” And once more Sten was ruffling her hair as Shale clopped over.

 

“It is petting the hairy one. Why?”

 

“The dog learns well.”

 

“Well it's nice to know that at least one mage can be controlled. It's still squishy.”

 

“Where Sten comes from all the mages are controlled.” Saeris offered and the pressure on her skull increased, ironically the grunt that went with it showed he was _pleased_. Why did she have such strange packmates?

 

“This does not bother it? Hm.”

 

Sten let go of her as they turned away. “The dog is not leashed, but it knows loyalty and it's place. Perhaps if more Saarebas were taken to having such a form they would not need the same strict supervision.”

 

“How can you be certain?” Shale queried as they continued upwards, Saeris had shifted once more into her canine form to keep up with their longer strides. Honestly they would talk about her no matter what. She did _loathe_ what Sten had said they did to mages in his homeland but she couldn't even improve the situation of those in the circle now. It made her jaw itch with the urge to bite something. Someday though. When this Blight was done with, if they made it out Okay, maybe Surana and Alistair could do something about it. At least remove the fear those in the circle felt. Let them travel, breathe freely. The idea of being caged once more was not one her heart could take.

 

“Because it is a dog.”

 

“Dog's pissed on me when I was stuck, almost as bad as pigeons.”

 

“All things piss.”

 

“I don't. Thankfully.”

 

Really. The two had the _weirdest_ conversations.

()()()()()()()

 

“How is it that we barely set foot in the place and we are already having them try to kick us out?” Leliana sighed and trailed her fingers along Saeris' fur. She was one of the only ones that would be able to do so and not be bitten for the effort. Saeris still did not enjoy it, but it helped with the whole seeming less of a threat here to the already unkind villagers. Her nose though, it was painfully swimming. A soft whine, and then she turned and licked at Zevran's fingers. It took them a moment, her pack siblings, but she saw the moment Zevran understood. He'd made so many jokes about the blood on his hands must offend her nose, even if he had washed them, after all.

 

“Where?”

 

“What is it..?” Leliana started to query but Zevran did not answer. His eyes sharp and watched as Saeris turned in place slowly. “I do not understand.”

 

“Blood. She smells blood. Everywhere.” Heedless of his bared legs Zevran then dropped, to be at eye level with the large hound, to one knee. “Saeris? I want you to focus. There is a way fresh blood smells that is different from the old. Can you tell them apart?” Inwardly he made the note to actually _train_ her as they would the cadaver and hunting hounds back in Antiva. Maybe it hadn't been Zevran's area, but it didn't mean he couldn't figure out the basics. After all she wasn't a real dog but knowing how to pin point scents could save all their lives. Until now it had not really made sense to him that though she was in canine form her mind was entirely human. Of course she would know the scent of those kills they made recently and the old battles they came across but there were so many ways bodies could decompose and smell and poisons..

 

Twiceblooded flicked her ears back and sniffed softly before hesitantly moving towards a bit of earth at the house not so far from the entrance. There was a single chicken roaming around, and a few books tossed haphazardly near the door frame. Dignity set aside Saeris dropped her muzzle to the earth and sneezed before trying to repeat the process. Fortunately, neither of the mountainous warriors following decided to comment and Leliana was frowning as she pieced together an idea of what was happening.

 

Finally, Saeris could not help it, there was a scent like the rotting and congealed forms that had taken over her fellows, back in the nightmare of the Tower. Tail out in determination she began to dig. The earth was soft, too soft to be anything other than what she suspected by now.

 

When her paw suddenly hit something soft and putrid, a wave of hideous odor emerged and Twiceblooded let out a yelp as she leapt back, only to find Sten scooping her up as if she was a tiny pup instead of a massive hound.

 

The group stayed quiet at what was revealed to be most clearly a leg already blackening and oozing.

 

“I think we had best go see about that store.” Zevran spoke up softly, eyes narrowed. “Perhaps, encourage, a little more talk, yes?”

 

Saeris twisted her form to leap only to realize Sten had clamped his other hand down and was indeed, carrying her.

 

Leliana smothered a laugh at the sight of the immense qunari carrying her transformed heart sister like an overfluffed kitten and even Zevran let out a slight chuckle.

 

“Well, that's one way to look less threatening. Perhaps I should pick up the painted elf.” Shale remarked and Zevran rapidly took point.

 

“I think he is scared of you.” Leliana remarked to Shale, entertained immensely and grateful for the distraction as her nerves were certainly not at ease from this newest discovery.

 

“It's the best way to move the babbling little thing on.” Shale agreed before flicking her hand. The two got along just fine as Leliana had a love of beautiful things and had taken to finding 'pretty stones' that Shale could wedge into her crevices. No one had seen that bonding aspect coming.

()()()()()()

 

“You've spent how long just..just..” Saeris groaned as she looked at the bashful Surana. “Please tell me why you're in a tavern here drinking and not getting anywhere?”

 

“At least we left word at the gate to let you in. Wasn't easy mind, they didn't even want to let us in but they were willing to honor the treaties enough to let us help with the craziness down here. Dwarven politics take forever. We are still trying to figure this out. Ventured into the deep roads briefly to find a few people and ..well..can I just say I am not looking forward to that? At all?” Alistair piped up and then sighed. “Bloody nightmare. There's something about it that just sends my pulse racing like there's a darkspawn breathing down my neck.”

 

“We killed a dragon. You've gotten drunk.” Sten remarked idly and it set Leliana and Zevran off, Saeris just grimaced but nodded.

 

“Move over. You're buying all of us a round.”

 

“But..the ashes..” Alistair sounded hesitant. “You..you did get them, right?”

 

“They are in my care.” came the assurance of Leliana, her hands smoothing over where she kept them hidden. “What powers they may or may not have, it is a ..truly wondrous fact to have beheld the place meant to keep Andraste.”

 

“Are there at least beds anywhere?” Saeris asked as she yawned. The lack of sleep had been devastating to her and she was feeling..off. Very off. As if the tests hadn't all but destroyed her to begin with. Fighting off the villagers in Haven had not been so different, if peculiar. Battling through peculiar traps and mazes in the surprisingly huge labryinth meant to lead pilgrams to the Ashes had been an experience with Leliana constantly remarking on what was added later and what could have been original to the location.

 

Saeris still was baffled that someone thought such..trickery..was a method of locks and guarding. Though the exceptionally ancient human who had looked into them and asked things she did not wish examined...

 

The only _small_ blessing was when they spoke later it seemed no one heard the actual questions posed to the others. Only the answers.

 

“Tell me, Saeris once Lavellan, now Twiceblooded. Do you regret abandoning your heritage and hiding part of your nature?”

 

It had wounded her deeply. Did she? Did she regret no longer being able to call herself Dalish? No longer Lavellan and forever denied the blood writing upon her skin?

 

“No. I still honor my heritage. It is more than marks upon flesh and a name. My heritage is in my memories, my actions, to look ahead as much as behind. My life however is the now and the moment.” She had answered and it had been the truth. She was still an elfblooded human. She was Chasind. She was a mage, a shape shifter, spirit trained and a survivor. None of that did she feel upset over. So what if she couldn't claim a clan that hadn't even wanted her? Her mother had left and not looked back. Taught her to look ahead just as often. “If you wish to speak of _regrets_ Ancient one..” Saeris had snapped instead and spread out her arms visually taunting that he missed the mark.

 

“Very well.”

 

She'd waited for the explosion from the others that had never come. Never would. Because they had only heard her answer and likely thought she meant her Chasind heritage. It was fine, enough. The real regrets she had were many enough but it was not over such a small thing. She'd cast off that person happily to save herself from the Templars, now that her phylactery was gone she felt no urge to undo that action. Not when the names that defined her now were her own titles. Even if just Sten's mocking 'Dog' in regards to her.

 

“You all right there dear?” Wynne fussed over her and Saeris looked up with a smile.

 

“It was a trial. Literally. Looked inside us and tested our mental, emotional, and physical limits. That's not counting the usual monsters and crazies that seemed to set up in the area.”

 

“It does seem to draw them.” Alistair agreed and it was highly telling that the two of them who so rarely interacted were finding any sort of a common ground.

 

“Fill us in?” Leliana entreated and over large pitchers of ale and strange fungus and mushroom apetizers with something called 'nug cheese' that no one touched; the various tasks that spawned nigh endlessly from the dwarves came free. The battle to choose an old and seemingly kinder but unchanging king or a ruthless young one who wished to force a more equal system on others. In the end Surana had insisted upon the young prince, explaining that it was like the Mages in the Tower, if something hadn't changed, if someone hadn't forced a situation as horrid as what had happened was, perhaps there never would have been this chance for them to travel. Perhaps Wynne would still be there only loaned out for a few occasions like a trained beast. Saeris would unlikely have ever been permitted to leave.

 

In that light, no one felt like arguing.

 

“He really is a jerk though.” Surana sighed. “Honestly I think he'd kill anyone who argued with him so even though he has good ideas and plans, how he wants to go about it troubles me.”

 

“Rather it is that he is efficient.” Morrigan interrupted and smirked over at Saeris. “One doesn't leave a threat at ones back, after all.”

 

Saeris barely managed a wan smile, unable to think of whether she agreed or not. “Beds?”

 

“That tired?” Wynne's hand was on her brow then, testing her young apprentice's temperature. “You feeling all right?”

 

“I didn't get a proper nights sleep.” She sighed. “Canine senses and all..I just..”

 

“I'll show you where it is.” Morrigan offered and Saeris scrambled after in a completely ungraceful way. The raven haired Witch of the Wilds led her to the inn down a few path ways, entirely hidden if you had no inkling of it's presence. “Fortunately for us the presence of human Wardens was not entirely unknown, same with a few rare traders so this location had proper sized beds. I did make certain you and Wynne would share a room with Leliana when you arrived.”

 

“You and Surana?”

 

“Naturally.” Morrigan sniffed, almost managing to hide her slight shifting of shyness even as she ducked under the lower doorway. “Alistair will be sharing with Zevran and Sten. It should prove most amusing for us to see what foolishness comes of that.”

 

“So what did you wish to warn me of?” Saeris said after a chuckle, and Morrigan turned, glancing over her shoulder with a sigh.

 

“We are not so deep under the earth, and yet we are. Your dreams will be muted here. It is as though the Fade is much out of our reach..perhaps the real reasons dwarves do not dream is they cannot reach the Fade, even if they were capable.”

 

The news did not comfort Saeris in the slightest though she said nothing on the topic. What a cruel irony, finally being somewhere she could let her guard down only to hear that her desired location may be barred or distant for her. The deep roads would only be worse, no doubt. Sighing, the canine shifter nodded in thanks for the warning. Well, perhaps she could still maneuver properly. Saeris did have an advantage over Morrigan when it came to traversing the Fade after all.

 


	16. Chapter 16

_Cloying._

 

_The Fade was different. Thick, viscous. Like being underwater with a heavy bloom of algae which coated skin and lungs alike. Saeris felt heavy and distant, even the sensation of the ever seeking light tendrils she used to communicate in the sleeping realm did not venture far from her 'skin'. It was almost as if something was pressing it back into her, holding her under. As surely as she was beneath the stone, she was all but immobile._

 

_It was alarming and still, the change in the atmosphere of the Fade was more akin to being buried under a mound of blankets in a comforting heavy warmth instead of being forced to drown. Perhaps this was the reason Dwarves could not dream, did not access the fade? Were it not so intricately a part of her very being at this stage, as what she was, Saeris could not say she would have ever desired to experience the Fade as such._

 

_Doubtless, even had there been a scrap of the capability for magic in the dwarven people they would have turned aside for their own sanity. It was only that Saeris was as used to reality not applying when she slept, thinking as a spirit and not a mortal, that the concept of not breathing, of being other than you were when awake, was doable._

 

_Saeris still found the pressure and dilution of her natural freedom to be a disorienting experience. Instead she returned to the earliest encounters she could remember, ones that had cumulated in her meeting Curiosity to begin with. Saeris instead chose to dream of the past in the location she was resting. It was in contrast a swift landslide to cascade backwards, the coming and going of dwarves all but etched into the memories of the stones around her. This it seemed was more the way the Fade worked in these underground cities. The stone clung to memories and the past, like aqueducts formed from the ancient passage of time, worn away and not willing to move for a new method._

 

_Unable to properly wander, Saeris just immersed herself into watching the flow of time and tried to ignore the pressing sensation of being watched in turn._

()()()()()()

 

Wynne entered the room and saw the furrowed brow, the troubled expression of her apprentice wrapped so tightly in her blankets it no doubt made her feel bound. She had known that Saeris was uniquely sensitive to the Fade, with the great ease her spells came and the instinctive alteration to many that clearly the girl was not aware she did. A tiny change in the inflection, a different twist of the hand. Sitting beside her, smiling as Saeris did not waken, Wynne smoothed her hair back from the marked face.

 

She'd had a number of dreams with Faith lately, nudges to her heart, ideas that felt correct when she stumbled across them. One of which was that the spirit housed within her clearly was as fond of the young shapeshifting mage as Wynne was. A soft sensation that they needed to be there to support, to accept.

 

While she had finally explained her circumstances in detail to Surana and been touched at the adamant insistence that she was still the wonderful if slightly cranky and rule-bound woman he had already known; Wynne had the strangest understanding that somehow Saeris already knew. As if Faith had reached out to her, and no words needed to be said.

 

A gentle pressure on her had Wynne breathe out, her hand taking on the soft glow and aura of her spirit healing gifts. That made Saeris sigh and slowly her body relaxed. She took comfort in the presence of the spirit within her mentor.

 

'You've secrets, dear girl. I'll let you keep them.' Wynne smiled then gently. “Sweet dreams.”

()()()()()()()()()

 

Surana was up early the next morning, not that you could tell time deep under the earth like this, the lights were always on. Still, they had a new mission to work on, finding some Carta thugs and dealing with them. There were a few other small missions but they knew, could tell from the hints being dropped..Alistair looked over, just as green and shuddering at the time as Surana knew he was.

 

They'd end up having to go into the Deep Roads for this Branka that was being talked about. There was no helping it, but it was the  _last_  place they wanted to go. While usually they kept to smaller groups, neither liked the idea of doing so this time.

 

“You're thinking about it again,” Alistair mumbled. “Me too. I just, it's like it's already got a hand on my skin. I don't want to go down there but if anyone can do this, we can.”

 

“We take everyone.” Surana agreed, when Alistair frowned over at the idea, Surana shrugged. “How many would Duncan have with him? You said he used to come here, check the roads..”

 

Alistair's face cleared up as he remembered. “Fifteen to twenty, easily. A mix of skills, smaller groups of three to four but only so they knew who to attack with. He said you'd be down small narrow paths and then it would be a massive opening and swarms would come after you.” Alistair swallowed hard, missing his Warden Commander but also realizing what a nightmare they'd be facing. How fortunate it was that Alistair had been close enough, cared enough, to listen to all of Duncan's stories which would help them now.

 

“Yeah. So how do you want to do this?” Surana had gotten close to the Bastard Prince, close enough he honestly could say it felt like Alistair was his best friend and they would never change from that tight-knit bond. The blight bringing people together, indeed.

 

“I'd like to force the whole lot of dwarven armies to go with us and all but that's not going to happen.” Alistair tried to sound joking but dropped it right away. “I think we best sort of split up. You in front or back spread out. We can warn them if we sense any coming..”

 

“We have two healers.” Surana agreed, dipping his finger in the weak ale to draw on the table. “Shale and Sten in the middle..they can go to either end and keep the middle from being a weak zone.”

 

Alistair leaned over and nodded. “Put Zev in front for traps, Leliana in the back as if we need her for locks we have time, but she's wicked with her bow. Not sure how good it'll be if we're in a tight space but in an open one.”

 

“Saeris and Barkspawn can't bite the darkspawn but there's probably plenty else down there. Saeris is also one of our healers so if she's up front, Barkspawn in the back?”

 

“Put them both up front. If Barkspawn senses something she'd be the best at interpreting it.” Alistair disagreed. “You still learning well with fighting with a weapon? I know we've been working hard on that Arcane Warrior skill you got in the forest from the ghost.”

 

“Wish I had more practice with the sword but at least I can wear better armor.” Surana agreed and frowned. It had been a very useful skill to know, originally he thought of teaching it to Saeris but they simply hadn't the time. He figured it would be good if he could find a way to pass it on, even if just some tips because wearing even light armor could save their lives and was an easier way to hide being a mage. Not to mention knowing what he was doing even if just a little, in close combat.

 

“Who are we missing?” Alistair furrowed his brow before grinning. “Right. Your little spider lover.”

 

Surana grinned at Alistair. “No mocking me, she's amazing. You just have no appreciation for her wicked humor.”

 

“It's that sharp tongue of hers that makes her a right bitch.”

 

“Oh her tongue is wicked, not sharp, she does this thing when-”

 

“My mind! My mind!”

()()()()()()()()()

 

When the plans were explained to the others it was decided that as rogues Zevran and Leliana would go with Surana, and as an edge for any nasty surprises, so would Wynne. A smaller group had been suggested to handle the Carta and left the others to gather information and patch up the gear, to rest in preparation for the larger journey that would no doubt be coming.

 

“I'd like to go top side and gather herbs and plants. We'll not find any to restock our supplies down below.” Saeris pointed out and as everyone else was fine staying beneath the earth where there were no surprise Darkspawn attacks, she had to then assure them all she did not mind going alone.

 

“Oh stop it!” Morrigan finally interjected. “She's Chasind, we flourish when alone and out with the wind and earth where they belong. Let the dog be.”

 

Saeris smirked over at Morrigan but inclined her head. “I'll just gather, then spend time in my fur. After all, I cannot imagine below will be good for my nose!”

 

The moment she had a chance as the others found ways to keep busy, Saeris fled top side. She had a pendant from Surana he had been gifted upon his joining the warden's that would act as her token to return to Orzammar. Truthfully, though she would in deed be gathering herbs as pledged so they could prepare as many items as they could carry to patch themselves up, Saeris fully intended to get a proper sleep and run in as well. It was from the moment the doors to Orzammar closed behind her she could physically sense the veil holding the Fade back once more, embracing her and digging deep into her cells, her lungs. She wasted no time to shift, stretch her canine body to it's limits in running and force her breathing to keep up.

 

After a time she slowed, shifted once more and began to gather all the plants she could find. There were areas that elfroot grew that most would never look for but she had the ken of the earth her mother had taught her, grown substantially since her time with the Werewolves curse in her veins. She had simply never realized it until now until her soul had cried out for the green and growing so far from it all. Saeris wondered at this, at the other changes that the Lady had spoken of. As much as she dreaded going into the Deep Roads, when she emerged there was a good likelihood of knowing far better what had been done.

 

With her bag full Saeris found a ledge on the mountain sheltered from the wind and curled up, tail over her nose and gleefully shifted into the Fade.

()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“ _What happened to you?” The voice echoed, betraying it as a spirit and Saeris lifted her gaze, ears perked forward at the hovering form. All too long limbs and strangely moving the jaw, mismatched features as though someone grabbed random parts of people and creatures to stick together. The form was different but she knew that light, that sensation._

 

“ _Curiosity~” The named spirit fluttered in delight at hearing her._

 

“ _I looked for you! I couldn't find you, it was like you were always awake or wrapped up in fog. But I found you, I found you!” The spirit sang as Curiosity flickered in and out, imploding and rippling as it's features changed before giggling. “You're big!”_

 

_Delight rippled along her being, making Curiosity coo and flutter nearer. /You can talk! Really talk!/ The light revealed the thoughts. Curiosity wanted to know, to understand, had questions but the exultation over this new revelation had the spirit in twisted forms of delight. Saeris likewise shifted, bounding away, reforming. A game of tag beginning between the two old friends._

 

_Little orbs of memories to share flickered between them, run into as they darted towards and away, always the chaotic shifting of hues and vibrant spectrum giving way their feelings as they communicated without a need for words. Saeris share her events, her training, her seeing of new places and things. She kept away things that she did not need Curiosity to share with another but even still it was a treasure for the inquisitive spirit friend of hers._

 

_Likewise, Saeris collided with memories of strange places, people, and discoveries. She saw the moment a child learned fire could explode flour. The tentative steps of a baby deer. The cruelty that mankind could give to themselves and the strange cultures that dazzled her senses of other places being brought to Fereldan where Curiosity had observed them arguing at the borders with the natives._

 

_/Trust-love?/ Curiosity giggled then, before touching Twiceblooded's furred cheeks and the hound leaned into the contact. They had never shared like this before but there was no hesitation from either._

 

_Sharing. Feeling. Exchanging._

 

_When Curiosity saw the way that they had brought down a high dragon there was a high pitched note. Yes, Saeris had been startled herself for all The Lady had told her some powers would transfer to her form, when holding nothing back and shifting, thinking as if in the fade when Saeris had wanted a massive shard of ice to rise up and pierce a wing, it had done so. She'd shifted back rapidly to deflect the notice of her comrades and the blizzard formed around them all drawing on the cold mountain winds, the snow, Saeris almost lost herself to the sensation of the massive spell then and whilst the dragon lunged at her, Sten had swung his massive sword and blinded it. After that, it was just a matter of Sten and Shale pinning the great beast's head and piercing the blade through it's eyes. Curiosity hummed over the part where Saeris had seen Sten reach down and cup a hand full of the blood while the others were distracted by the horde the dragon had nearby, drinking deeply._

 

_He had paused, looked at her then with his eyes wild and fierce not unlike the dragon and she read then that in his motions, she could do the same._

 

_She_ could _. But something deep in her, hissed and growled and warned that she should not. There was dragon blood on her lips, from biting deep into the hide, but it was different than slain blood. Somehow she knew this, and instead while Sten's eyes watched she licked her lips. It satisfied him and he'd actually nodded, a faint smile present on his features before going to clean his blade. Saeris had looked down at the corpse of the once noble beast and since they certainly wouldn't be skinning and hauling it back, there'd be enough shed skin and scales already if they ever felt like returning to make armor from it, Saeris reached out instead and broke off a small tooth. This would go in her hair, a reminder._

 

_And then she let the spell flow, the one she'd used in the Brecillian forest, the firestorm that melted the ice around her and hissed steam as the all but boiling water pooled away from her feet. Saeris's attention on the innards of the High Dragon, consuming it from the interior out, watching the ribs and body cave in creating an expulsion of ash from the gaping maw that covered her and made her cough. Saeris still hadn't ceased her casting, controlling the spell until nothing remained._

 

“ _Those aren't the Ashes we are looking for.” Leiliana had teased._

 

_Curiosity looked over at Twiceblooded then as it drew away, having left numerous memories and knowledge of odd tidbits in exchange, enough that Twiceblooded's head was swimming. /You didn't want it scavenged./_

 

_/It didn't feel right./ Saeris insisted and Curiosity beamed at her._

 

_/It wouldn't have been. High Dragons and the elder ones are imbued with the Fade, like touch stones. That's why your spells reacted so strongly there, why you could do more./ The obvious pleasure that Saeris was having instincts like a spirit when awake suffused them in the lingering aftermath of the gestaltic meld and Saeris blinked._

 

_She just_ knew _the reason that Sten had drunk the blood was Qunari had something called Reaver's, that it was a massive undertaking to find and slay a dragon. She also knew that the tooth she carried now, woven in her hair but hidden at the base of her scalp was important, would aid her casting and reactions when awake._

 

“ _You gave me random things.” Twiceblooded flickered at Curiosity only to hear the other laugh. Because of course, why wouldn't Twiceblooded need to know the seventeen places on a nug you could tickle it? Or what frogs made your tongue blue if you licked their backs?_

 

_Impossible spirit._

 

_/You're going into the deep roads. Down. We aren't allowed down./ Curiosity shifted the topic, concerned as the light dimmed from their words. Clearly, it wanted to know what was there but didn't dare do so. /Old things that sing are there, and never liked us venturing into their lands. Be careful, do not go into the Fade if you can help it. Sleep without dreaming as you will be trespassing./ A moment and then Curiosity showed it's nature with a vibrant ripple. /But pay attention so you can tell me all about it later!/_

 

_/Of course./_

 

Saeris snapped awake but it was just a rodent scurrying by her paws. Still, she did not like the warning that ones like her, like the spirits, were unwelcome down below.

 

It did make her wonder how much Flemeth had guessed, teaching her those oils to help when it happened. For surely, she would need them in the Deep.

 

 


End file.
